


lost boy

by yasha



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, Asexual Steve Rogers, Awesome Peggy Carter, Awesome Sharon Carter (Marvel), BAMF Natasha Romanov, Barista Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, Deaf Steve Rogers, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Angst, Hipster Steve Rogers, Human Disaster Clint Barton, Irish Sarah Rogers, Kinda, M/M, Minor Peggy Carter/Angie Martinelli, Nerd Bucky Barnes, Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sarah Rogers is a saint, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve's Pov, multilingual Bucky Barnes, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-08-07 22:50:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 57,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16417520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yasha/pseuds/yasha
Summary: Steve huffs. He has no idea why James helped him, but he has his suspicions. The guy probably thinks Steve is totally lost, and he can’t help but to show he’s better. God, Steve really does hate him. James seems so confident, being 6’ and carrying himself like he’s got nothing to worry about. Steve can’t stand him, his dark, soft looking hair that curls all the way to his shoulders, his icy blue eyes and easy smiles.•orenemies to lovers (sorta) university AU that no one asked for but I'm here to deliver anyway





	1. week one

**Author's Note:**

> There are some parts in different languages that aren't translated cause it's either irrelevant or something Steve wouldn't understand and, since it's told from Steve's POV, I figured I'll keep the mystery. The translation might not be perfect as I'm fluent in only one of other languages. 
> 
> As I'm not in university in the US, I based it mostly on how it looks at my uni. 
> 
> It's my first work all by myself so any comments and suggestions would be appreciated. You can find me on tumblr (softevanstan). Tags will be updated as I can't really think of anything right now. Let me know if I've missed something. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

“Steve?” 

His head snaps up, his thick half-round black glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Yes?” 

“Exercise five, example four,” Ms. Santiago, the teacher, says, resigned. 

“Oh, um… I don’t know,” he admits quietly. 

Ms. Santiago shakes her head slightly, then shifts her gaze to his left. “James?” she says, leaning back on her chair. 

“Maria es alegra, pero todavia esta trista,” James says, then sends an apologetic smile towards Steve. 

Steve sighs. He has no idea what they’re doing today, not to mention why he’s doing a Spanish course. His major is art, paintings specifically. Sure, he’s always wanted to learn another language, other than Gaelic, which he knows thanks to his Ma. When he mentioned the idea to his major adviser, though, he had in mind something else like Latin or French. However, he was sent to the faculty of languages, and a rude lady at the Latin Institute told him that Latin is available for language students only. He then asked about French, but she sent him away to the respective institute. There, he found out that all the places were already taken, and the only languages he could choose were Spanish or Russian. He wasn’t happy to know that, but he’d already told his promoter that he’d pick another language, so Spanish it was. Now, he’s paying the price. They’re two months into the semester and he still has no idea how to introduce himself or tell where he’s from. He spends hours listening to Spanish podcasts, trying to learn how to read correctly, but it’s no use. 

James on the other hand… well, he seems to be a natural. Steve kinda hates him right now. During the introduction class, the guy has basically told the story of his life. He was born in Romania, moved to Russia when he was six years old, then moved to Poland when he was in middle school. His parents decided to go back to the US when it was time for him to go to university, and now he’s studying history. He’s fluent in four languages, Spanish being his fifth. He doesn’t have an accent though, his English sounding as natural as ever. He’s always walking around with the redhead that’s seated next to him. Steve sees them sometimes in the history building, where he’s got his art history classes. They’re joined by the hip, always talking animatedly, often in a language Steve can’t understand. He knows the girl’s name is Natasha, and that she’s an exchange student from Russia, so he assumes that’s the language they speak to each other. She wasn’t as open in the first class as James though, so that’s basically all he knows about her. She seems to be learning Spanish pretty quickly too, she and James are always being chosen by Ms. Santiago when no one else knows the correct answer. Steve would hate her too, but she kinda terrifies him, so he’s chosen to focus all his frustration on James instead. 

So what if he’s not a quick learner? He’s trying his best, all right? He can’t just put everything else on hold to focus on a language he probably won’t even need. He has an endless amount of paintings and other projects to do, and on top of that he has a part-time job that, turns out, takes an unexpectedly large amount of his time. He’s a barista at Starbucks, the one that’s the nearest to the campus. He works two or three times a week after his classes, spending every minute of his weekend studying and painting. His Ma always told him that he works too hard, but if he wants to be successful later, he has to work his ass off now. 

Steve wished he could have his own, small gallery someday. He’ll never say this to anyone, his dream seeming too far away, but it’s what he’s always wanted, ever since his Ma took him to a local gallery in Brooklyn when he was just a kid. He remembers he was overwhelmed with emotions when they were there. It was just after he had recovered from pneumonia, angry with his weak body for missing two weeks of school, which meant missing art classes too. He’s loved drawing for as long as he can remember, and during that time, art classes were his escape from the real world. He didn’t have many friends, what with being sick all the time and what not, and he found art being the greatest companion one could ask for. He was always on top of his homework, starting his projects as soon as possible to be sure he’d make them on time. His art teacher always praised him, encouraging him to join their little club and work on his talent. He did just that, and if he’s being honest, it paid off well. He’s one of the best students now, acing not only every painting, but also other classes. 

Well, except from Spanish. He’s been cursing his stupid decision since their second class, when it turned out almost everyone there actually wanted to speak this language fluently. All he wanted was to learn Latin, as that language always appeared to him as one of the artists. Now, he’s not only not studying Latin, but also failing Spanish miserably. If this keeps up, he’ll have to hire a tutor, and his Ma is already low on money, even with his scholarship. 

Steve is pulled out of his thoughts when the teacher slides a handout onto his desk, arching her eyebrow at him. He only now realizes, that he’s been doodling in his notebook instead of paying attention to what she was saying. Again. He sighs, sending Ms. Santiago an apologetic smile. He’s trying to focus, he really is, but it just seems so worthless. 

“The first exercise is just a warm up, so we’re going to do this orally, then do the second and third one. Once you’ve checked it, the rest is your homework, and you’re free to go,” the teacher says, handing the papers to the other students. Steve looks at the exercise and gulps. He doesn’t even understand the instructions, let alone the rest. “The first example is already done, so let’s start with the second. America?” 

The girl answers easily, which only makes him feel worse. He remembers that the girl said she can speak Spanish thanks to her origins, but she wants to learn proper grammar and other “boring stuff.” Steve wished he could learn Gaelic that way. 

“That’s right. Kate?” Ms. Santiago moves over to America’s girlfriend. The girl struggles at the beginning, but she’s quick to correct herself. Steve remembers that they’re both studying languages, as they’d said in their first class. He sometimes sees them on the campus, and they’re always friendly towards him. They’re both part of the university’s LGBT club, and Steve wishes he could join up too, but, well, time is something he doesn’t really have. 

The teacher asks a couple of other students, and then they’re left to do the next two exercises. He does his best, checking words he doesn’t know in the dictionary and then putting them into his notebook. Once he’s done, he checks the spelling and grammar structures, referencing to his book. They start checking the second exercise, and he’s happy to see that he’s got most of the answers right. Then, they move to the next one, and he’s the first one to answer. 

“Is it, uhh… Esta camiseta es sucia?” He says, looking at Ms. Santiago hopefully. She shakes her head, and he sighs, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Esta camiseta está sucia,” James says quietly, sending him a small smile. Steve bites down on his lip to keep himself from making any smart remarks, and looks at the teacher. She cocks her eyebrow, pretending she didn’t hear what James said. 

“Umm... está?” He risks, not really seeing the difference. 

“That’s right,” she nods, then moves over to ask other students. 

Steve huffs. He has no idea why James helped him, but he has his suspicions. The guy probably thinks Steve is totally lost, and he can’t help but to show he’s better. God, he really does hate him. James seems so confident, being 6’ and carrying himself like he’s got nothing to worry about. Steve can’t stand him, his dark, soft looking hair that curls all the way to his shoulders, his icy blue eyes and easy smiles. His cheekbones are well defined and his jawline reminds Steve of those perfectly sculpted ancient statues. He’s always dressed in tight, washed, dark jeans and t-shirts, usually wearing a black leather jacket and Converse. He walks around seemingly unaware of all the longing stares he’s getting, his steps light and quiet. He’s everything Steve’s not: tall, muscular, always surrounded by friends. From what he’s seen when he’s in the history building, James is well known both by students and teachers. He’s always on top of his class, winning every history contest the university sends him to. Steve often sees him in the library, with a couple of books around him. He always seems deep in his thought, writing in his notebook, or reading while tracing his lower lip with a tip of a pen. His hair is always in a messy bun at the top of his head, a couple of strings escaping and framing his face. He usually puts it behind his ears absentmindedly, his eyes never leaving the book. Whenever that happens, Steve’s fingers itch to draw the guy, his broad shoulders, strong hands, plump lips and the hard lines of his jaw. 

He doesn’t though. He hates that guy, he doesn’t want to have him in his sketchbook, thank you very much. It’s enough that he sees him not only in Spanish, but also twice a week in the history department, when he’s got his classes there. Sure, he knew the guy. They’re the same age, and they’re both in the third year of their studies, which means Steve’s seen him before. But it’s only now, that James started irritating him so badly. Before having classes together, he was always just a regular guy from uni. They saw each other passing, or James would stop by the Starbucks Steve’s working at. But they’ve never talked to each other, never recognized each other’s presence. All he knew about the guy, was that he’s always carrying a book with him and was friends with Natasha. He’d usually come for a coffee with someone, or just sit in the corner and read. Steve never paid him attention then. Now, however, James seems to be everywhere. It’s either him, the redhead, or the blonde guy that sticks with them. They often come to Starbucks, and spend hours there studying or talking. The three of them seem to know everyone worth knowing, often going to parties or football games. Not that Steve would know - he doesn’t go to either. He’s not popular enough to go to parties, not that he has any time if he was, and football games just bore him. One of his friends though, Sharon, is often out with other students and seems to know just the right people. 

Steve is pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of chairs moving on the floor. He looks up, and sees everyone packing, so he follows suit, putting his books to his bag, then standing up. He runs a hand through his hair, remembering that he probably needs a haircut, then shrugs on his denim jacket and puts the strap of his bag onto his shoulder. He goes to leave the class, but Ms. Santiago stops him with her hand, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Steve,” he nods, not wanting to interrupt. “I can see that you’re trying, but we’re moving pretty fast with the material and you’re visibly struggling. I wouldn’t like to see you fail, that’s why I’m telling you this now,” she cocks her eyebrow pointedly, and he swallows down hard. “Maybe try to get a tutor? Or ask someone from the class, I’m sure they’ll be happy to help you. You could also stop doodling in your notebook and pay attention to what I’m saying.” 

He feels a blush creep out on his cheeks and looks down, ashamed. “I’m sorry.” 

“No need to be sorry, it’s your grade, after all. I just wanted to tell you this now, before you’re too far behind the rest,” she smiles, but it doesn’t really make him feel better. He mumbles something of a ‘thank you’ under his breath, and turns around, ready to leave. That’s when he notices that James and Natasha are still in the classroom, lingering at the back. He swears inwardly. That’s all he needed, now the guy’ll probably gloat even more. He sighs, pushing his glasses up his nose, and leaves the room hurriedly. 

 

* 

Steve’s shift started ten minutes ago, and he’s already done with it. He’s tired and still feeling pretty low after his Spanish classes, so of course that’s when James comes into the shop and he feels his patience running thin. Steve watches as James scans the place, looking for empty tables, and goes towards one once he’s found it. He leaves his backpack on one of the chairs, then goes up to the counter. Steve’s glad he’s working the coffee machine, not the counter, otherwise he’d have to take the guy’s order. He tries to focus on what he’s doing, and pours steamed milk into the cup, then finishes the order with two shots of espresso. He closes the lid of a to go cup, and calls out for ‘Billy.’ He hands the drink to the guy, and then starts preparing the next order. He pours vanilla syrup into the cup, then extracts three shots of espresso into it. Then, he steams milk and pours it into the cup along with milk foam. He tops it with chocolate powder and closes the lid. 

“Medium cappuccino for Bucky!” he calls out. His eyebrows shoot up when James comes up to take the cup from him. 

“Thanks, Steve,” the guy sends him an easy smile, noticing the surprise evident on his face. 

“I thought your name was James?” Steve asks, his brows furrowed. 

“Well, yeah. I go by Bucky, though,” James, Bucky, shrugs, a smile still on his face. 

“Oh,” Steve says, still taken by surprise. What kind of a name is ‘Bucky’ anyway? 

Bucky takes his coffee with his right hand, nodding his thanks and turns away. He goes to his table and flops down on one of the chairs, then takes a book out of his backpack. He opens it, but then pulls a phone out of his jeans pocket and types something quickly. After that, he puts it screen down on the table, and focuses on the book in front of him. 

Steve blinks rapidly, catching himself staring at James. Bucky. He has no idea why would someone choose to go by that instead of James, but he figures it’s none of his business. He reminds himself that the guy is probably a nerdy asshole, shaking his head slightly, then goes back to preparing orders. 

 

*

Steve’s shift ends early in the evening, and he flops down on the couch as soon as he’s back home. His Ma is in the kitchen, singing softly along with the radio. He groans, taking off his jacket, then lies down and presses his head into a pillow. The entire apartment is filled with a smell of cinnamon and apples, so he guesses his Ma made apple pie. She always makes it on Fridays, taking it with her to the homeless shelter the day after. 

See, to Steve, Sarah Rogers is a saint. She’s a nurse in a hospital nearby, working for ten hours a day, Monday to Friday. She often takes additional shifts, always agreeing to stay a little bit longer if she’s needed. On Saturdays, she helps at the homeless shelter down the street, often taking pies or homemade lasagnas with her. She says it’s her way to repay society for accepting her, being an Irish pregnant immigrant when she arrived. Steve’s dad died just a few weeks before he was born, but his parents were married then, so his Ma stayed, to raise him in the US. At first, she planned to take him back to Ireland when he was old enough, but Steve was a sickly child, still is, and so they stayed. 

Then, on Sundays, Sarah helps at the local church, cleaning or raising money for the community. She’s close with the people in the congregation, often going with them to brunches or various meetings. When Steve was in his final year of high school, they found out she had cancer. Everyone was shocked to hear it, as she was always happy and positive, quick to help everyone in need. During her sickness they weren’t alone though; the staff in the hospital did everything in their power to get their favorite nurse to health, and the church congregation raised a lot of money to help them with hospital and meds expenses. Steve took a gap year then, working different part time jobs to keep them from ending on the street. Once the doctors decided that chemo helped and Sarah was back to her health, everyone was over the moon. Steve had just turned 19 then, and they both decided that he’d go to university. He still insisted on keeping a job, not wanting his Ma to overwork herself. 

That’s how it still is, even though Sarah’s healthy and free of cancer. They still can’t afford much, what with all the loans they have to repay and what not, but they’re not facing the worst possibility. Their apartment is small, but they still have their respective bedrooms, and a living room filled with canvases and paints. Steve wanted to keep it in his room, but his Ma insisted that the living room has the best lighting, and well, he couldn’t disagree. Besides, he knows that she loves to see him paint and he enjoys her company. 

Not now, though. Now, he wants to be alone and go to sleep, tired as he is after an entire week of studying and working. He’s exhausted, and he can’t help but think of all the things he has to do over the weekend. He has a paper to write, one he’s been putting off for a week now, a painting to do and he has to sit down to Spanish. He’ll be damned if that James guy helps him one more time. He’s fine on his own, thank you very much. 

“Stevie, dinner’s waiting!” his Ma calls out. He sighs. So much for being alone now. 

Steve sits up, dragging a hand down his face. He shrugs off his jacket, throwing it on the arm of the couch, and stands up, going to the kitchen. His Ma is seated on the stool at the kitchen island, putting lasagna onto two plates. Steve smiles at her, then fills two glasses with water and puts them on the counter. 

“This one is without lactose, so don’t worry about the meds,” she returns his smile, then digs in. He nods thankfully, putting the pills back into the shelf, then sits beside her. 

“Go raibh maith agat,” he says thankfully, knowing she likes when he speaks Gaelic. 

They eat in silence, enjoying each other’s presence. When they’re done, Steve takes the dishes to the sink, and scrubs them clean. He then puts them on the dryer, and goes to leave the kitchen, kissing his mother on the cheek. 

“G’night, Ma.” 

“Oíche mhaith, Stevie,” she murmurs, patting him on the shoulder.


	2. week two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgot to add, the title comes from the midnight's song "lost boy" everyone say thank you chris evans

Friday rolled around quicker than Steve would’ve wanted, and now he’s seated at the far back corner of the classroom, struggling with Spanish yet again. He looks at the exercise in front of him, trying to remind himself the right verb to use. He’s spent half of Saturday studying, he even downloaded an app and watched every possible youtube video on the subject. He kept revising during the week and he’s sure he knows the answer, he just can’t seem to think of it. He sighs, resigned, then reaches out for his notebook. He doesn’t have a chance to look at it though, as Ms. Santiago starts asking students for their answers. Steve checks along, and is pleased to see that what he wrote is right. When the reach the example he’s not sure of, the teacher asks him, and he groans quietly, because _of fucking course_. 

“Is it, umm… Ella es delgada y alta, tiene el pello rubio y está guapa?” He phrases it like a question, not sure of his answer. 

Ms. Santiago looks at him intently for a second. “Not quite,” she then shifts her gaze towards the other side of the room. “James?”

“Es guapa,” he says, not even looking at his notes. Instead, he looks at Steve, but averts his eyes quickly. The teacher nods, then moves over to the other examples. 

Steve blood boils. This guy again. He huffs, not even looking at the table on his left. Would it kill James, Bucky, would it kill Bucky to not know the answer only once? Is it really that much? Steve spent so much time on this, and the guy acting like it’s the simplest thing only pisses him off. He hears Nat say something quietly in Russian, then James, Bucky, replying something along the lines of ‘shut up.’ Steve rolls his eyes, focusing on the handout in front of him. He’ll learn that, and he’ll show the guy that he and his nerdy ass can go to hell as far as he’s concerned. 

It’s not that Steve minds the fact that James is a nerd. He couldn’t care less. It’s just that he doesn’t have to be so obnoxious. Sure, Steve’d probably be proud of himself if he spoke as many languages as the guy does, but it doesn’t mean that he has to be so… full of himself. If the roles were reversed, and it was Steve who’d be better than him, he wouldn’t rub it in the guy’s face. He’d probably try to help him, sure, but not like that. Not making him look like an idiot in front of the entire class. 

Steve sighs, deciding to focus on the material, not the brunette. He listens to the teacher and makes notes, finding everything she says useful. At the end of the class, his wrist is killing him from writing furiously, but he knows it’s worth it. He’ll spend the weekend studying, and show James next week that he can nail Spanish too. 

When Ms. Santiago says they’re free to go, Steve takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. He’s tired, and his head hurts. He’s glad he doesn’t work today, so he can go home straight from the university. He puts his glasses back on, then packs his books. He shrugs on his jacket and runs a hand through his hair. 

“вот Ваш шанс” Steve hears behind himself, and turns around, his brows furrowed. He’s only now realizing that everyone’s already left the class, leaving only him, James, and Natasha. It must’ve been the girl that’s spoken, because the guy is looking at her, surprised. Then, he quickly looks at Steve, his cheeks slightly painted pink. Natasha nudges his shoulder and he flips her off, shaking his head. Steve cocks his eyebrow, but figures it has nothing to do with him, so he shrugs. 

“See you next week, Steve,” James says and steps around him, then quickly leaves the room. 

Natasha chuckles quietly, sending Steve a smile, and goes after her friend. “трус!” Steve hears her shout, but he pays no mind to it, leaving the room after them. 

 

*

Steve’s sitting in a local coffee shop near his home. It’s Sunday, and he figured he’d spent enough time studying, so he decided to join his friends for their weekly gossip meeting. They, of course, don’t think of it like that, but he knows them to well to not be fooled. They meet here every week, the place being far enough from university to not see any friendly faces. They usually spend a couple of hours there, everyone catching up. They like to think that it’s not about exchanging the hottest gossips, but Steve knows better. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his friends, he just doesn’t care that much about the lives of people from their uni. Steve, Sam, Peggy and Sharon are all on different studies, so they’ve got a lot to talk about. Steve’s in art, Sam’s in psychology, Peggy’s in history and Sharon’s in social studies, so their social circles are, well, huge. He’s the only one that doesn’t seem to know the people they’re all talking about though. Sure, if he saw them, he’d probably recognize them, but he’s not on a namely basis with these people. Don’t get him wrong - he doesn't think better of himself. It’s the opposite, really. He knows people on the campus only see him as one of the many hipster artists. He doesn’t mind though, he’s used to people not paying attention to him. He honestly prefers that, after years of being bullied in both primary and middle school. It changed in high school, once he met Sam and Sharon, all of them in one class. Then in the middle of freshmen, Peggy joined them, being an exchange student. She’s Sharon’s cousin, so obviously they befriended her quickly. Since then, the four of them have been inseparable. Sure, they’re majoring in different fields, but they’re still close and Steve wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Earth to Steve!” His head snaps up from the sketchbook he’s been drawing in. He blinks a few times, looking at Peggy. 

“Sorry. You were sayin’?” He sends her an apologetic smile, and she shakes her head smiling fondly. 

“I was saying, that we missed you last night!” They all nod their heads and he sighs. 

Right. Last night was Halloween, so everyone who was anyone went to the frat party on the campus. His friends were nagging him to go, but Steve didn’t bend. Parties were always too loud for him, what with the electronic music playing loudly from the speakers and what not. Besides, his ideal Saturday night never consisted of drunken people groping each other on the dancefloor, the smell of alcohol and sweat disgustingly in the air. He’s happy to be at home, painting or helping his Ma. 

“Oh, umm… I had a lot of things to catch up on,” which is only partially true. He did have work to do, but he was also simply not invited. 

“You’re working too hard, man,” Sam says, nudging his shoulder. “Live a little.” 

“I’m living just fine, thanks,” he huffs, a smirk on his lips. 

He knows his friends mean well, but he’s also not stupid. He sees the looks everyone on campus keeps sending his way, whenever he’s with Sam, Peggy or Sharon. They’re all just… way out of his league. Sam’s tall, muscular, and so painfully handsome Steve might have drawn him once or twice. He’s funny, always happy, spreading a positive energy wherever he is. The same goes for Sharon and Peggy. Sharon’s tall and lean, her long, blonde hair making her blue eyes look even brighter than they are. She’s always happy to help and she’s one of the nicest and honest people he knows. And Peggy… Well, Steve’a at loss of words whenever he has to describe her. She’s not as tall as Sharon, but she’s always wearing high heels and pencil dresses that highlight her curves, and pairs them with button ups, that make her look taller. Her black, soft curls fall to her shoulders in perfect waves, never a hair out of place. Her skin looks like porcelain, and contrasts with her dark, long eyelashes and lips covered in red lipstick. And then her cheekbones, God, Steve could draw her for hours with no end. She’s witty and smart, and she’s quick to call people on their bullshit. Whenever someone tries to undermine her for her British accent, she puts them right in place. She’s strong, and she knows her worth, which makes her beautiful not only on the outside, but mostly on the inside. Steve was mesmerized when he first met her, making a fool of himself. She was quick to warm up to him though, and he’s grateful for having her as a friend. 

“Steve!” This time it’s Sharon who pulls him out of his head. He just shrugs, because what can he say? They know him by now, know that he often gets lost in his thoughts. “We were telling you what you missed yesterday, at least listen to that,” she laughs, shaking her head. Steve closes his sketchbook and puts it to his bag, then leans against the table. 

“I’m all ears,” he wiggles his eyebrows, curling his fingers around the coffee cup. 

“Finally!” Peggy exclaims jokingly, then motions for Sharon to start. 

“Everyone was there. And I mean, everyone,” she stresses the last word, leaning back on her chair. “All the people we always tell you about from our departments. It was huge, Steve. They were all dressed up though, and it was so hilarious, you have no idea.” She giggles at the memory. 

“You’d lose your shit, man. All the characters from Star Wars, Fantastic Four, Matrix, even the ones from Scott Pilgrim. One guy even dressed as Napoleon Dynamite, I swear,” Sam puts his hand on his heart, laughing. Steve laughs along with him, imagining it all. “One guy dressed as a fucking Robin Hood, man, that shit was hilarious. He was walking around with a bow on his back!” he shakes his head. 

“Oh yeah, he was with that girl dressed all in black leather. Damn, she looked good,” Sharon bites down on her lower lip, her eyes suddenly dreamy. 

“Wasn’t that scissor-hands guy with them?” Peggy asks, looking at her cousin. She pays her no mind though, still in her head. 

Sam chuckles looking at the blonde. “Snap out of it, Sharon! You had your chance and did nothing,” he sticks his tongue out, at the girl’s offended expression. “And yeah, that guy was with them. You know them, Steve,” Sam suddenly turns to him. 

“I, what?” Steve lifts his eyebrow, not knowing who they’re talking about. 

“Yeah!” Peggy joins in, excited. 

“You gotta tell me her name, Steve, I’ve never seen her before!” Sharon pleads, her attention back to the table. 

“ I’ve got no idea who they’re talking about, Shar, calm down,” he laughs. 

“Yeah, you do, you have classes with them!” Peggy frowns at him. 

“With who?!” He looks at her exasperatedly. 

“Bucky, you idiot,” she huffs. 

“What he’s got to do with the girl in leather?” Steve still doesn’t follow. 

“She’s the redhead!” Peggy rolls her eyes like it’s the most obvious thing. “I’ve seen her a couple of times with him in our building, but I don’t think she’s in history. You though, you’ve said you have Spanish together.” 

“Oh…” it finally clicks, and Steve leans back on his chair. The girl in leather must’ve been Natasha, Bucky being the scissor-hands, and Clint the arrow guy. 

“So you know her?” Sharon perks up, which makes Sam chuckle. 

“I’ve got one class with her, wouldn’t say I know her,” he states matter of factly. 

“Steve!” The blonde pleads, resting her hands on the table. 

“All I know is that her name’s Natasha, and she’s an exchange student from Russia. I dunno what she’s studyin’,” he shrugs, wishing he could say more. 

“Natasha…” Sharon breathes, looking deep in thought. Then, a slight blush appears on her face. “It suits her.” 

Peggy shakes her head fondly at that, putting an arm around her cousin and squeezing gently. 

“Well, can you find out more?” Sam turns to him, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“More what?” Steve frowns, missing the point again. 

“About her, Jesus!” Sam shakes his head, disbelieving. 

“What do you want me to do? Come up to her and asks if she swings that way?” Steve looks at his friends, feeling out of his depth. 

“No!” Sharon exclaims loudly, then quickly looks around, embarrassed. “You’ve gotta be subtle Steve, go to that Bucky guy,” she says quieter. 

“What?! No!” Now he’s way too loud for his liking. He looks down, clearing his throat. 

“Why not?” Peggy looks at him attentively, cocking an eyebrow. “You like him?” 

“‘Course not!” Steve huffs, jutting his jaw defensively. Quite the opposite, really. 

“Relax Steve, you know what I mean,” she puts her hand on his and squeezes gently. “I know you don’t like anyone that way,” she says reassuringly. 

Steve sends her a small smile, still a little put off. His friends know he’s asexual, and they’ve never got a problem with this. They support him, and want him to find someone he’ll fall in love with. Still, it’s not easy, as almost everyone he’s ever tried to date expected him to like them sexually. It’s not his fault that he just doesn’t see people that way. He’s not sex repulsed, but it’s just not appealing to him. Besides, he’s always seen sex as something intimate, private, and well, not many people agree with him. So, he’s decided to put his love life on hold, no longer looking for the right person. He figured he’ll find one when the time comes. 

“So, you’re gonna tell us why not or…?” Sam gently nudges his shoulder. 

“Oh, uhh… We’re not really… He’s um…” Steve sighs, then looks down again. “I _hate_ that guy,” he mumbles, avoiding everyone’s eyes. 

“Care to elaborate?” Sharon asks, obviously curious. 

“He’s just so… Ugh!” He groans. 

“Okay?” Sam laughs, shaking his head, amused. 

“Look, I’m not sayin’ he’s not smart, because he obviously is, but he’s just so full of himself, y’know?” He looks at them, aggravated. “Spanish is his fifth language and he can’t stop bragging about it!” He throws his hands up exaggeratedly. 

“Bragging how?” Peggy lifts her eyebrow, refraining from making any quick comments. 

“He always has all the answers right, and he keeps correctin’ me and Ms. Santiago always asks him when I dunno the answer and it’s just so... “ He drifts off, seeing his friends eyeing each other. 

“It doesn’t really sound like he’s bragging, man,” Sam says carefully. 

“Oh, he totally is!” Steve looks at him, puzzled. “He keeps rubbing his knowledge straight in my face!” He huffs, than leans back. 

“Steve…” Peggy starts, but he interrupts her. 

“Fine, don’t believe me,” he crosses his arms and refuses to look up. He knows damn well he’s acting like a child, but he’s just tired of this guy and he wishes his friends would take his side on this. “Can we change the subject now? Tell me about the party,” he says quickly. His friends are still silent for a while, exchanging looks he’s not aware of. Then they all nod to themselves, and go back to talking about the Halloween party, carefully omitting the subject of Bucky.

 

*

Steve lets out a deep breath, looking out the library window. It’s Tuesday afternoon, and he’s just finished his classes. It’s raining outside, the weather changing dramatically at the beginning of November. He had to abandon his favorite denim jacket and switch to his navy blue, autumn coat and a thick, orange scarf. It only makes his friends call him a hipster more often, but he couldn’t care less. So what, if he likes wearing flannel shirts and beanies, they’re warm. The fact that he also loves indie music, old movies and pumpkin spice latte is just coincidental. Besides, they can call him whatever they want - he’s glad to have them in the first place. Growing up, he didn’t have many friends. He was always the sick kid, that missed a lot of classes, loved art and wore thick glasses. He doesn’t get sick as much now, but he’s still 5’4, 100 pounds soaking wet, thick glasses being a constant. His allergies aren’t such a pain in the ass as they were, but he’s still lactose intolerant and his asthma hasn’t changed one bit. Sure, he doesn’t have scoliosis anymore, but he doesn’t count it as such a victory after all the pain he’s been through. He’s still socially awkward, and prefers the quiet of his room to big, public spaces. The only exceptions are the museums and art galleries, where he spends hours, looking at or sketching the paintings and sculptures. 

Which reminds him, why he’s at the library at the first place. He needs to write a research paper for his history classes, and he decided to start early in order to really dig into his subject. He goes to the right shelf and chooses the books he’ll need, then takes them to the table at the back of the room. He sits with his back to the rest of the room, facing the window. The steady rhythm of the rain calms him, and helps him focus. He pulls out his notebook and focuses on the text in front of him.

The sound of a chair screeching on the other side of the table makes Steve jump. He curses quietly, looking up, and sees James, standing there with a sheepish smile on his face, because of fucking course it’s him. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” the guy whispers, then sits down, and lays out his books. Steve forces out a smile, that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, then looks back at his books. “Whatcha studying?” 

“History,” he replies, letting out a breath. 

“I see that, but… Nevermind,” James mumbles resigned, seeing Steve’s cocked eyebrow. 

The blonde bites his lower lip. He doesn’t want to be rude, he just… Hates the guy. 

“Sorry. It’s um… ancient Greece, sculptures and all that,” Steve says quietly. 

“Oh, uh…” James sends him a small, shy smile. “That’s interesting.” 

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, shrugging, then goes back to his reading. 

“I like your tattoo,” the guy mumbles sheepishly, indicating Steve’s left forearm with his pen. Steve looks down at the simple sketched daisy curling around the words ‘you’re made of marble.’ A soft smile appears on his face, as he absentmindedly traces the words with his right index finger. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs, looking up. The guy smiles back, then looks down, suddenly interested in his books. His soft curls fall onto his face and he sighs, then takes a band off his right wrist and pulls his hair into a messy bun at the back of his head. A couple of strings fall out, and frame his face. Steve’s fingers itch to draw him. The brunette looks like one of the sculpture he’s studying, wearing a tight, grey henley that does little to hide the hard lines of his muscles, his skin slightly pale. His eyelashes cast a barely there shadow on his cheekbones, and there’s a smile playing on his lips. 

Instead of drawing him, like Steve wants to, he turns his attention back to his books. He remembers he should ask the guy about Natasha, but he quickly decides against it. He still has a couple of chapters to read, and a hell of a lot notes to make. He zones out, studying the perfect shapes and hard lines of the sculptures.


	3. week three

When he next Friday comes, Steve’s prepared. He spent most of his week studying and revising what he already knew. He entered the classroom feeling ready to face every exercise Ms. Santiago would throw at him. What he didn’t expect though, was group work. Specifically, working in pairs. So of course, _of course_ , he’s paired with James. _Bucky_. He’s paired with Bucky. They have to come up with a dialogue, and they have more than half an hour to do so. Half an hour talking to the guy, being reminded he’s still not good enough. Steve feels his good attitude go out the window, frustration coming in its place. He drags a hand down his face, as everyone stands up to move places. He’s sitting by himself, so the guy comes to him. James sits down, a small smile on his face. 

“You ready to nail it?” he says jokingly, which only makes Steve’s blood boil. He knows he’s not as good as James, but he doesn’t need a reminder. 

“Sure, James,” he says, his tone flat. The guy looks at him puzzled, but otherwise is not perplexed. He opens his notebook, and Steve peeks at it. His handwriting is messy, a lot of things crossed out. He lifts an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything, instead reaches for his books. 

“So, I was thinkin’ we could make it like a shop conversation. Y’know, since we were practising appearance and clothing and stuff,” the guy clears, seeing Steve’s lost expression. 

“Sure,” he replies, opening his notebook. 

“You wanna start?” the brunette looks at him questioningly. 

“You go ahead, James,” Steve makes a gesture with his hand, encouraging the brunette to take the lead. 

“Bucky,” he says, his brows furrowed. 

“What?” Steve looks at him, confused. 

“You keep callin’ me James. My name’s Bucky,” he explains, his expression unreadable. 

“Oh, uh, sorry.” Steve says, finally making eye contact. The guy smiles, shrugging. 

“So…” 

 

*

“That will be all for today, thank you,” Ms. Santiago says, smiling to her students. 

Steve looks down, to hide the smile spreading on his face. All they did today was group work, and well, it was one of the best classes to date. Sure, he wasn’t happy to work with Jam--Bucky, but the guy didn’t try to show off. He actually listened to what Steve was saying, without constantly correcting him. At first he kept interrupting him, but he was quick to notice how irritated Steve got whenever that happened. After that, whenever he got something wrong Bucky would say something along the lines of ‘I thought it was…’ giving him a chance to go through his notes and correct himself. Steve realized what the guy was doing, but he didn’t call him on it. He appreciated it, if he’s to be honest. He still isn’t fond of the brunette, but he guesses he doesn’t hate him that much after all. In the end, they did nail the assignment. They didn’t have any grammar mistakes and Steve was proud of himself. He knows all the credit’s due to Bucky, but he still feels like he had a part in their success. 

Steve takes off his glasses and cleans them with the hem of his flannel shirt. Then, he puts them back on and starts packing. He’s not surprised to notice he’s one of the last students in class, only Natasha and Bucky still being in the classroom. He stands up, and runs a hand through his hair, remembering yet again that he needs a haircut. His hair is so long the tips keep falling to his eyes and it’s getting harder and harder to keep it under control. He sighs, rolling the sleeves of his shirt down, then puts his now packed bag on the desk and shrugs on coat. 

“смотрите на него,” he hears Natasha say and he looks at the pair still standing at their desk. She’s leaning against the wall, smirking, Bucky still stuffing his books into his backpack. He sends her a small smile, remembering the conversation with Sharon. He guesses he could try to get to know the redhead a bit better, but now’s not the time. “он милый,” she says, quieter this time, returning Steve’s smile. 

Bucky looks up at him, then looks at his friend. “заткнуться,” he says, then looks back at Steve, shrugging. 

He has no idea what they’re talking about, so he goes to leave the classroom. Before he does though, he hears the girl say “трус!” 

 

*

Steve turns his key in the lock of the front door, then comes inside. He toes off his shoes, taking off his beanie, and unfolds his scarf. He puts it in the closet, then shrugs off his coat and hangs it. He comes inside the small apartment, smelling cinnamon. 

“I’m home, Ma!” Steve calls out, leaving his bag on the floor and looking around. Sure enough, Sarah peers out from the kitchen. 

“I’m making cinnamon rolls. Want to join me?” She asks, then disappears back into the room. Steve smiles, and follows her. He’s dead on his feet after working eight hours shift and closing the shop, but he loves helping his Ma. During her sickness he learned to fully appreciate the time they spend together, and he never misses any opportunity to do so. 

Steve kisses his Ma on the cheek, then washes his hands quickly in the sink. “What do ya need me to do?” he stands beside her, watching her roll the dough. 

“Make the tray ready, will you?” she smiles, cutting the long roll into smaller ones. He nods, taking the baking tray out of the oven. He turns it on, then spreads baking paper on the tray and pours some oil on it. His Ma starts putting the rolls onto it in even lines. Once all the rolls are laid out, she puts the tray into the oven and turns on the timer. She washes her hands and Steve starts doing the dishes. 

After the kitchen is clean again, Steve makes some tea. Then, they both sit in the stools and talk about their days. He’s happy to tell her all about his progress in Spanish. After all, he’s done nothing but complain about this. She’s happy to hear it, just as he thought she would be. Then she tells him all the gossip from hospital, Steve already familiar with half of the staff there. When the timer beeps, he hops off, and takes the tray out of the oven. He lets the rolls cool down a bit, before putting two on a plate, for him and Sarah to try. He can’t help but snap a quick photo, sending it to Sam, Peggy and Sharon. They all love his Ma and her baking skills. Sometimes she makes something just so he could take it with him and share with them. 

After finishing eating, Steve takes the plate and mugs and puts it into the sink, deciding he’ll do the dishes the next day. He kisses his Ma on her cheek and wishes her goodnight, then goes straight to his room, and is out within a minute. 

 

* 

It’s Monday morning and Steve’s lying in bed, enjoying the peace and quiet. His Ma already left for work and he has only one class today, late in the afternoon. Normally, he’d be at work, but his manager gave him the day off as he worked every Monday last month. He stretches, groaning, and decides to waste the day drawing. He spent the weekend studying and painting, leaving the house only to meet his friends for coffee. He reaches out to his night stand and puts on his glasses, then sits up and pulls his sketchbook from under his pillow. It’s middle sized, black, with a red strap. It’s the one he doesn’t show to anyone, as it’s filled with his personal sketches. He flips the pages till he finds a blank one, then he zones out, letting his hand draw whatever comes to his mind. 

The sound of his phone vibrating against the hardwood of the bedside table pulls Steve out of his head. He reaches for the device, rubbing his eyes under his glasses with the other hand. 

“Hello?” he answers, then clears his throat. His voice is hoarse even to his own ears. 

“Steve?” he smiles, hearing the familiar voice. 

“Hey, Peggs.” 

“Are you busy?” 

“I ahh…” he looks down at his pajama, then quickly glances at his sketch. His stops short, realizing what, or rather whom, he’s drawn. 

“Steve?” 

“Yeah, what?” He blinks, shutting the sketchbook. “No, I’m not,” Steve throws it at the far end of the bed. 

“Well in that case, do you want to go shopping with me? My lecture just got cancelled, and I need to buy a new jacket.” 

“Sure,” he breathes, not really listening. 

“Great! I’ll be waiting at Starbucks,” she ends the call, and he’s left staring at his sketchbook. He blinks a couple of times, then reaches for it again. He flips it open carefully, searching for his latest work. Once he finds it, he’s left speechless. Bucky’s staring at him from the page, up close. Steve has no idea how he managed to draw the guy so realistically. It’s not like he’s spent much time looking at him, let alone enough to remember small details like the arch of his upper lip or a bump on his right ear. He’s drawn Bucky with a shy, small smile, the corners of his mouth barely lifted. He’s looking at Steve through his long eyelashes, his head slightly down, which emphasizes his cheekbones and defined jawline. His hair is up in a messy bun, a few strings falling softly on his face. There’s a small, barely noticeable crease between his eyebrows, and Steve’s staring at his sketch, mesmerized. He couldn’t have done it better if he'd tried. The drawing is so real, almost alive. 

Steve blinks, remembering he’s got somewhere to be. He hides his sketchbook, now even more anxious about anyone finding it. He gets out of bed and goes straight to the bathroom. He takes a quick shower and swallows a handful of pills. Then, he brushes his teeth and goes back to his room. He puts on dark, slightly ripped skinny jeans and a white tee, then pulls on a thick, blue cardigan. Steve runs a hand through his hair, pocketing his phone, wallet and inhaler. After that, he goes to the entry hallway, and puts on his shoes and coat. He takes his beanie in one hand, pulling a scarf over his neck, and leaves the apartment. 

Steve comes into Starbucks half an hour later. He's decided that the weather’s good enough for him to walk the distance, but he curses his decision as his lungs are struggling to take a deep breath. Steve fishes out his inhaler from the jeans pocket and takes two puffs, then pushes the door open and gets inside. The smell of coffee immediately fills his nostrils and he finds himself needing a cup. He looks around, spotting Peggy at one of the tables. She’s facing him, but there’s someone else with her. Steve frowns, as she didn’t mention anyone else going with them, and he can’t figure out who that person is. She sees him then, and waves, motioning for him to come closer. He nods his head to the counter, signalling that he’ll get a coffee first, and goes in that direction. Thankfully, the shop isn’t crowded and there’s only one person in front of him in the line. He stands there, waiting for his turn, then orders a medium pumpkin spice latte with coconut milk. The coworker taking his order laughs, sending him a look, but Steve just shrugs. What can he say? He loves that taste, leave him alone.

He takes his coffee from a barista and goes over to where Peggy’s seated. She smiles upon seeing him again and stands up. 

“Steve!” she beams at him, as he gives her a quick hug. 

“Oh, uh, hi,” the person sitting on the opposite of Peggy says, and that’s when Steve turns back, and his eyebrows skyrocket. 

“Bucky? Hi, um… Whatcha doin’ here?” he asks, dumbfounded. 

The brunette chuckles. “Havin’ a coffee, obviously,” he shrugs one shoulder, indicating a cup in front of him. Steve looks down at the table, or rather books spread on it. Bucky follows his gaze, then looks down. “Yeah, and that,” he says, a small smile on his face. 

Peggy puts on her jacket. “Well, it was nice studying with you,” she sends Bucky a smile, then puts a scarf around her neck. 

“Likewise,” he says, a small still on his face. Steve notices that he looks just like in his drawing, his hair up in a bun, a few strings framing his face. 

“See you, Bucky!” Peggy says, then grabs Steve by his hand and drugs him after herself. He manages a quick glance at the brunette before they leave. 

“Since when are you studying with him?” Steve asks, genuinely curious, once they’re out the door. 

Peggy lifts her eyebrow. “I’m allowed to study with whoever I want, Steve,” she says sternly, an edge to her voice. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Peggs. I just didn’t know you were friends, ‘s all,” he quickly explains as he trots after her. She seems to realize she’s walking a bit to fast, and slows down. 

“We’re not. We have one lecture together and it got cancelled today, and we both found ourselves in Starbucks. There weren’t any tables left so he joined me,” she shrugs. 

“Oh,” Steve breathes, realizing he probably made a fool of himself. 

“Don’t read into everything that much,” she nudges his shoulder, knowing he’s close to getting lost in his thoughts. 

“Just took me by surprise,” he says defensively, then looks down taking a sip of his latte. 

“You still hate the guy?” she asks, mocking his voice in a friendly manner. 

“He’s alright, I guess,” Steve mumbles, still refusing to meet her eyes. 

“Oh? What changed?” 

“We were working in pair in our last class. He didn’t try to outsmart me for once,” he explains, giving her a quick glance to gauge her reaction. Her face is unreadable, though. 

“So what, you like him now?” Peggy says cautiously. 

“I wouldn’t say like just yet,” Steve shrugs. Sure, he doesn’t hate Bucky that much now, but he’s still not fond of him either. 

“Alright,” she nods her head, then changes the subject. 

They go into a couple of shops, searching for the right jacket. Peggy finally decides on one, choosing a red, thick coat that goes all the way to her knees. She looks stunning in it, as it highlights her figure and the deep black of her curls. As they’re walking back to the university, they stop at a barber shop. Steve’s been thinking about getting a haircut for a while now, and Peggy is quick to drag him into it. He hasn’t really thought about what he wants though, so he tells the barber to just make it shorter. The guy smiles, saying he knows just how to cut his hair. Steve leans back and lets him do his job, enjoying the feeling of someone playing with his hair. The man gives him an undercut, leaving the hair on the top of his head a little longer. It’s falling to one side, parting naturally. The barber shows Steve how to style it with a little bit of gel and he has to admit that he likes it. He can leave his hair be or play with it, and it’ll look good anyway. He pays for the haircut, leaving a tip as his Ma always taught him to, and he and Peggy leave the shop. Steve needs to go to classes, and she wants to study a bit more, so they part ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if y'all could drop a comment that'd be amazing, I wonder what are your thoughts on this!


	4. week four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another friday another chapter, let's go!

Just as last week, Steve was ready for this Friday to come. He’s been studying not only over the weekend, but during the week too. Sure, his history class suffered a little because of it, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He was finally on top of his Spanish assignments, doing all the homework without the help of his notes. He comes to class just before it starts, and quickly takes his seat in the far, right corner. He takes his book out, and runs a hand through his hair. The barber was right, it looks good without styling too. He didn’t have time to bother with gel today, as he overslept and needed to rush to make it in time to class. He knew his outfit didn’t look like he put much thought into it; his oversized, thick blue sweater was just _a bit_ too oversized and kept falling down from his shoulder and his black skinny jeans, which he picked out from the floor, needed washing. But, he made it without being late so he counts it as a win. 

He focuses on the class, taking notes and listening to Ms. Santiago. When she asks him, he’s quick to give her the right answer and he notices a tiny smile playing on her face. He bites down on his lip to keep himself from smiling too. Instead, he looks down and scribbles something in his notebook. They go back to doing exercises, and, before Steve notices, the class is over. Ms. Santiago gives them handouts, saying they should familiarize themselves with it, as they’ll be moving on from the material they’ve been doing. He makes a mental note to read the handouts, wanting to be prepared again. As Ms. Santiago finishes, everyone start packing their bags, and so does Steve. He puts everything inside carefully, then takes of his glasses and cleans them with the hem of his sweater. He puts them back on, then stands up to put on his coat. He notices that everyone already left the classroom, leaving only him, Bucky, and Natasha yet again. He doesn’t put much thought into it though, as the brunette finishes packing his backpack. Steve wraps a scarf around his neck and puts his bag on his shoulder. 

He goes to leave the classroom, but Natasha stops him. “Hi, Steve,” he turns around and sees that Bucky looks at the girl with his eyebrow raised. 

“Um, hi,” Steve answers, sending her a smile. 

“You’ve got a haircut,” Bucky nods his head towards him. Steve shrugs, then runs a hand through his hair that’s falling slightly on his forehead. 

“ _Yasha_ ,” the girl says, caution in her voice.

“ _Natalia_ ,” Bucky replies, his voice stern. She starts talking rapidly in Russian after that, and the man draws his eyebrows together. 

Steve suddenly feels out of place. Besides, he’s got somewhere he has to be. “I’ll uhh… I’ll leave you guys to it,” he says a bit quieter, then leaves the room without looking back. 

 

*

Steve pushes the door and comes into the entry hallway. He quickly strips out of his outwear, then toes off his shoes and goes inside the apartment. He’s dead on his feet after closing the shop tonight. He goes straight into the kitchen, knowing he’ll find Sarah there. Sure enough, she’s taking out a tray from the oven. 

“Hi, Ma,” he comes closer to her, then gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“There you are! What took you so long?” she asks, taking two baking tins from the tray and placing them on a cooling rack. “Cheesecake with raspberries on top,” she explains, seeing his lifted eyebrow. 

“Stopped by a store,” he lifts the paper bag he’s holding and takes out a bar of his Ma’s favorite chocolate. “Wanna bake chocolate muffins next time?” he smiles seeing her expression. 

“Only if you help,” she answers, then swats his hand away when he reaches for one of the cheesecakes. “Let it cool!” 

“Alright, alright,” he shakes his head, then goes to put on a kettle for tea. “Fancy somethin’ new?” 

“You and your hipster teas can suck it.” 

“Ma!” he puts his hand on his chest in mocked disbelief, his brows skyrocketing.

“Oh, stop it,” she shakes her head, chuckling. “What even is this?” 

“I’ll have you know that rooibos is actually good for health, not like that black swill you call tea.” 

“I’m _Irish_ Steven, it’s black tea or no tea,” Sarah sits down on one of the stools taking a mug from him. 

“Suit yourself,” he shrugs, sitting opposite her. “So, cheesecake?” Steve asks, reaching for one of the baking tins. 

“The other one.” 

“What?” he hand stops mid air. 

“That one is with cheese, the other one is good for you,” she explains, standing up and reaching for plates. 

“Oh. Thank you,” he smiles, grateful that he won’t have to take any more meds tonight. 

“When will you learn, Stevie?” she shakes her head fondly, cutting two slices, then putting it on the plates and placing one in front of him. 

“Guess we’ll see,” he chuckles, then digs into his pie. “‘S amazin’, Ma,” Steve moans, swallowing. 

“You could invite your friends over to try, I haven’t seen them in ages,” Sarah rises an eyebrow pointedly. 

“And share this? Nope,” Steve pops the ‘p’, taking another mouthful. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I leave you alone?” he chokes on his pie as Sarah erupts with laughter. 

“Ma!” 

“That was funny Steve, admit it,” she honest to God smirks, and Steve narrows down his eyes. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my mother?” 

“You’re so dramatic,” she rolls her eyes, then stands up and ruffles his hair. “Oíche mhaith, Stevie,” Sarah says quietly, then goes to leave the room, winking at him first. 

 

*

Steve enters Starbucks early on the Wednesday morning. His human study class’d been cancelled, which he found out once he entered the classroom only to find it empty. So, instead of waiting around for an hour and a half, he went to the shop to study. He figured it’s good to use his employee discount every once in a while, besides it’s the closest to university. The morning rush is just starting, and he’s glad he found an empty table. 

He’s deep in thought, sketching human body parts just like in his book, and sipping pumpkin spice latte, when he hears someone clearing their throat next to him. 

“Is it taken?” 

Steve looks up and sees Bucky, standing next to an empty chair at his table. The brunette’s wearing a leather jacket, as always, with a dark henley underneath. He’s holding a couple of books in his right hand, a backpack slung around his shoulder. His hair’s loose, falling onto his face and there are dark circles under his eyes. Steve’s fingers itch to draw the guy yet again. 

“No, go ahead,” he motions for Bucky to take a seat. The guy sends him a small smile that doesn’t really reach his eyes and puts his books on the table. 

“Imma be back in a sec,” Bucky leaves his backpack on the chair and goes back to the counter for his order. 

Steve takes that moment to look around. The shop is packed now, everyone coming to get their morning fix of caffeine or study. He sighs, looking at his sketchbook. He still can’t get the movement right. He’s perfected faces and close-ups, but full body, especially in the move, still sucks. He takes off his glasses, squeezing the bridge of his nose. He has about an hour left till his next class, and he needs to make the best out of it. He rubs his eyes, then drags a hand down his face, groaning. 

“That hard, huh?” Steve jumps a little, startled, as he didn’t see Bucky coming back. The brunette puts his cup on the table, then sits down. 

“It’s just… arduous,” the blonde shrugs, then puts his glasses back on. He catches Bucky looking straight into his eyes, but the man averts his gaze quickly.

“Whatcha doin’?” Bucky takes a sip of his coffee, then opens his books.

“Human body in movement,” the guy lifts his eyebrow, so Steve slides his sketchbook in his direction. 

“These are… holy shit, you’re good,” Bucky breathes, looking down at his sketches, then back up at Steve. 

“I uh… Thanks, I guess.” He shrugs, then looks down with a sheepish smile. Sure, he’s gotten people complimenting his art before, but the man seems just so honest, Steve actually feels appreciated. Bucky returns the smile, then looks down at his books. “What’re you studyin’?” Steve asks, surprising himself. A week ago he couldn’t stand the guy, and now he’s actually initiating the conversation. 

“19th century in Europe,” Bucky sighs, pushing his hair out of his face. “Hey, you’ve got classes in our department, right?” He asks, encouraged by Steve. 

“Yeah, art history,” Steve rolls his eyes. He has this subject only for two years, this year being the second, which means they’re going pretty fast with the material. Which also means, there’s a lot of studying. 

“Who’s your professor?” 

“Ms. Hill. You know her?” Steve puts down his pencil and takes a sip of his coffee. 

“Yeah, she’s tough. I’ve had ancient history with her last year and, well, she doesn’t take any bullshit, that’s for sure,” the brunette shakes his head, remembering. 

“I’ve noticed,” Steve chuckles. Ms. Hill is an amazing teacher but yeah, she’s not necessarily the nicest one. 

“I’m here if you need any help. I mean, not to say that you do but, uhh… You know what I mean,” Bucky looks down, scratching his neck and letting his brown curls fall on his face. 

“Oh, uh… Thanks,” Steve smiles, appreciating the initiative. 

They keep talking for the next hour. They’re exchanging thoughts on their studies and professors, as well as some students. Steve admits that he doesn’t like going out much, and, frankly, doesn’t have time what with his work and what not. Bucky keeps asking him about most random things like favorite color, book, artist. At some point they start fighting about Star Wars because “it’s not overrated Steve, take that back now!” Steve has to admit that it’s nice. He’s surprised to find that Bucky is actually a lot like him, growing up moving form one place to another, so he didn’t have many friends either. Steve never thought he’ll say it, but he likes talking to the guy. Well, at least when it’s not in Spanish. He feels kind of bad for judging Bucky so quickly. He’s the one who always says that you shouldn’t make an opinion about anyone till you get to know them, and yet he did just that. He scolds himself for that, making a mental note to never do that mistake again. 

Steve’s phone vibrates with a reminder that he has to leave to make it in time for his class. He quickly turns it off, then shuts his books and sketchbook. 

“I’ve gotta run,” he smiles, apologetically, then starts packing his bag. 

“Oh, uhh, sure. Sorry for keepin’ you from studyin’,” Bucky actually looks sorry, and Steve sends him a reassuring smile. 

“’S fine, I needed a break,” he shrugs one shoulder, then puts on his coat and wraps a scarf around his neck. “Guess I’ll see ya on Friday,” Steve goes to leave the shop, but quickly turns around, remembering what Sharon’s asked of him. “Hey, umm.. I’ve got a question to ask,” he shifts his weight nervously. 

“Shoot,” Bucky lifts the corner of his lips. 

“Do you know if, umm… I mean, I was wonderin’ if…” he sighs. It’s not even for him and yet he’s anxious about asking. Bucky lifts his eyebrow, curious. “Is Natasha single?” Steve mumbles quickly. He looks down, then back up again. The brunette’s face is well, surprised, but Steve swears he saw something on it. He just can’t pinpoint exactly what. 

“Oh,” Bucky draws his brows, biting his lower lip. “Sorry to break it to you, pal-” 

“It’s not for me!” Steve interrupts quickly, a bit too quickly for his liking. He winces internally, but keeps his face neutral.

“Okay?” Bucky cocks his eyebrow, then shakes his head slightly. “Anyways, she’s got somethin’ with Clint, but neither of them will actually admit to it, so who knows,” he shrugs. 

“Oh, umm, okay, then. Thanks!” Steve says, then turns on his heel and leaves the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> penny for yall's thoughts


	5. week five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a dumbass who forgot y'all americans celebrate thanksgiving, so let's just pretend Steve, Peggy, Sharon and Sam went to Macy's parade and then ate dinner with Sarah
> 
> TW for description of violence and homophobic language

Steve enters the classroom feeling somehow ready; he hasn’t revised during the week, too busy painting and working. He knows that they’ll be working on new material though, so he isn’t too worried. He’s there before Ms.Santiago, so all the other students are talking loudly and laughing. Steve goes to his usual spot at the far corner, then takes off his jacket and unpacks his books. He sees Bucky from the corner of his eye. The guy’s talking to Natasha, she nudges his shoulder slightly and he shakes his head. Steve turns toward them, wanting to say hello, but the teacher chooses this exact moment to enter the room. Steve ends up sending the pair a smile and a wave; they smile back, as Ms. Santiago greets the students. She announces that, as a revision, they’ll be working in pairs again. Steve rolls up the sleeves of his grey flannel in anticipation. He smiles when it turns out he’ll be working with Natasha. She goes to sit with him, as he sits alone, and flops down on a chair beside him, opening her notebook. 

They finish their assignment quickly, waiting for the rest of the class to finish. They sit in silence for a bit, Steve squirming under Natasha’s intent gaze. 

“So,” she starts, offhandedly. “I hear you’ve been asking about me?” She smirks as Steve chokes on is own spit. 

“Imma kill him,” Steve groans, hiding his face in his hands. 

“Good luck with that,” she huffs, no heat behind her words. “You wanna tell me who that was for?” Natasha narrows down her eyes suspiciously, the green piercing right through Steve. 

“Not really,” he mumbles, shifting. 

“Come on, Steve. I’m asking _nicely_ ,” she puts the emphasis on the last word and he swallows down. 

“I can’t,” he shrugs. “Not without talkin’ to um… them first,” Steve states, carefully avoiding giving any information away. 

Natasha looks at him assessingly for a bit, then leans back on her chair. “Okay.” 

“Just like that?” he cocks an eyebrow. 

“You’re obviously a good friend, Steve,” Natasha sends him a small smile. 

“Thanks, I guess,” he shrugs, smiling hesitantly. 

They don’t have much time to talk after that, as Ms. Santiago starts checking their assignments. They did good, and Steve’s glad his hard work is finally paying off. Natasha goes back to her desk where Bucky’s seated. Steve hears her talk rapidly in Russian, but he pays no mind to it as he focuses on what the teacher’s saying. They start the new material, and he finds it hard to understand everything at once. He’s making notes, listening to everything Ms. Santiago’s explaining. At one point she asks him to read the exercise, and he feels like a deer caught in headlights; Steve has no idea what the right option is, so he guesses, hoping for the best. It turns out wrong though, and he ends up frustrated. Bucky is quick to give the right answer and Steve’s frustration grows even more. He thought that now, as they’re on somewhat friendly relations, the guy would stop proving Steve how little he knows. He was wrong though and he’s irritated, wishing for the class to end already. 

Once Ms. Santiago tells them they’re free to go, Steve all but runs from the room. He doesn’t want to be the last one to leave, like he usually does. He’s frustrated and angry, and has an eight hour shift ahead of him. He wraps a scarf around his neck on his way out of the building, and heads straight to Starbucks. 

*

On Tuesday afternoon Steve’s sitting in the library, getting ready for tomorrow’s lessons. He had only one class this morning, the other ones being cancelled, so he figured he’ll get a head start. He checks the clock every couple minutes to make sure he’ll get to work in time. He’s working the closing shift, and he’s dreading it already. 

Steve taps his pencil against his notebook, his mind drifting away. He looks out the window at the raindrops sliding down thee glass. It’s late November and it definitely feels like it. It’s cold outside, the temperature dropping rapidly, and it’s raining pretty much all the time. He sighs, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with a hem of his flannel shirt. It’s only a month till Christmas and then the midterms. He’s pretty much on top of all his projects, but still has one painting to do, which he’s been putting off for a while now. He has to paint a person in the nude to pass his body studies class. It wouldn’t be a problem if the teacher didn’t ask them to turn the painting with a signature of the person they painted. He knows he could just ask one of his friends to sign whatever he painted, but it doesn’t seem right to him, so he actually has to ask one of them, which, well, sucks. Sure, they’re friends, but it’s still a big deal to be still and naked for a couple hours while someone’s immortalizing you on canvas. 

Steve puts his glasses back on, then goes back to reading his book and making notes. He just has to finish this chapter and then he’s good to go. He focuses on the text, scribbling down everything he finds important. He has just two paragraphs left when someone puts their books down on the table and sits opposite him. 

“Hey.” 

Steve looks up, and sees Bucky, smiling sheepishly at him. “Hi,” he answers, then looks down again. 

“Whatcha doin’?” The brunette asks, putting his hair in a bun at the top of his head. He’s dressed in a black hoodie with a white tee underneath. 

Steve lifts an eyebrow. “Just finishin’ this chapter,” he answers quietly, hoping that Bucky’ll leave him alone. Sure, they were doing fine, but then the guy had to prove Steve yet again how bad in Spanish he really is. Steve’s still a bit bitter about that, and he’s not up for a conversation when he’s got work to do. 

“Oh, uhh, okay,” Bucky mumbles, his eyes searching Steve’s face. Then, he looks down and opens his books. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

“Thanks,” Steve breathes, thanking whatever god there is. His Ma would probably smack him upside the head for that, the Catholic that she is, but Steve lost his faith a while ago. After everything he’s been through in his life, thinking that someone up there actually cares for him feels like a cruel joke. 

Steve quickly finishes the chapter, then closes his books and shuffles them into his bag. He stands up, and puts on his coat, wrapping a scarf around his neck tightly. He turns on his heel and leaves, without as much as a second glance at Bucky.

*

Steve closes the door after himself and takes a deep breath. He’s just finished his shift, his manager still in the shop counting money. It’s been busy today, and getting everything ready for tomorrow took longer than usual. He’s dead on his feet and he’s still irritated after an encounter with one of the customers. One lady claimed that her coffee had too much milk, and he had to prepare her order three times. She said she’ll file a complaint, and they were in the middle of a heated discussion when the manager came to talk to her. She still wasn’t satisfied though, so Steve’s pretty damn sure he’ll be hearing about this later. Well, it’s not his fault that the girl had no idea what kind of a coffee latte is. It’s pretty much all milk, so what the hell was she expecting? 

He lets out a breath, shaking his head. There’s no point in thinking about this again. He’ll probably have a talk with his manager, but right now he couldn’t care less. It’s close to 11pm and he just wants to get home and go to sleep. He turns right and starts walking, knowing that waiting for a bus at this hour would take forever. Steve pulls his phone out of his coat pocket and checks his texts. He’s got one from Sharon, asking him if he knows anything about Natasha yet, and then another one form his Ma. He sighs reading it, as she says she had to stay at the hospital and she’ll be home sometime during the night. Steve pockets his phone, deciding to call Sharon at home, and wraps his scarf a bit tighter. It’s chilly, and his beanie isn’t doing much. He shivers and quickens his pace, rounding another corner. 

Steve is three blocks away from his street when he hears a loud ‘Fuck off!’ and a shout from one of the back alleys. At first he keeps walking, but then when he hears something hitting the bricks he stops immediately. He curses under his breath; he wants to go home, he really does, and everything tells him to just call 911 and keep going. He doesn’t though. Instead, he shakes his head slowly, rolling his eyes, and turns to his left, getting closer to the alley. He’s had a shitty week, so, _of fucking course_ , there’s someone fighting. He steps around the corner in time to see a guy hitting someone straight in their face. 

“Hey!” He shouts, coming closer. “The hell you think you’re doin’?” Steve steps further into the alley, and the guy turns towards him with his fists clenched. 

The person who’s just been hit turns out to be as short and skinny as he is. Their hair is short, dyed pink, and there are piercings in their lips, eyebrow and nose. Their left ear is covered in piercings too, and there’s a tattoo peeking from the collar of their jacket. There’s a cut on their right cheek, a bruise slowly forming. 

“Get lost,” the other man spits out, looking Steve up and down. 

“You’ve got a problem here?” He asks, straightening up and jutting out his jaw. 

“I said fuck off! Unless you wanna end up like this fag over there,” the guy snarls, indicating the other person with his head. 

Steve’s blood boils and he clenches his fists. “What did you just call them?” He hisses, stepping into the guy’s personal space. 

“You one of ‘em too? Guess it’s my lucky day,” the man snarls, smirking. Then, before Steve knows it, the guy connects his fist with his jaw. 

“Fuck!” Steve breathes, tasting blood on his tongue. 

The guy laughs mockingly and Steve clenches his teeth. He’s quick to punch the man straight in his stomach, and when the man leans down, putting a hand around his midsection, Steve punches him in the face. He hisses immediately, feeling the pain in his knuckles. 

“You fucker!” The guys growls, then kicks Steve in his stomach in return. He loses his footing and stumbles back hitting the brick wall behind him. He sees stars in front of his eyes, but quickly pushes himself off the wall, ready to take another swing. That’s when he realizes that the person who he wanted to help has fled. Because _of course_ they did. That’s just Steve’s luck.

He goes to take a swing at the other guy, but he’s quicker and he punches Steve so hard his head whips around. He takes a couple wobbly steps back and spits out the blood from his mouth. Then, he raises his fists again, ready to defend himself. 

“Don’t you know when to give up?” The man laughs at him. 

“I can do this all day,” Steve says firmly, then takes a swing at the guy. Steve doesn’t hurt him though, as the man grabs his fist and twists his hand. Steve cries out loud, the pain going all the way through his arm. The guy uses that to hit him yet again, this time delivering a punch to Steve’s cheekbone. He bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from screaming. It hurts like a bitch, but his Ma raised a fighter. He tries to deck the guy, his vision slightly blurry. He misses terribly, and the man scoffs. 

“That all you got?” He shouts, then kicks Steve in the stomach again. 

Steve falls once more, pain shooting through his body. His lungs start to struggle as he takes a deep breath. Steve tries to stand up again but fails, his legs collapsing under him. The guy laughs out loud, throwing his head back. 

“Pathetic,” the man scoffs, then decks him. Steve’s head hits the ground, and he’s struggling to take a breath. From the corner of his eye, he sees the guy getting ready to deliver a final blow. Steve quickly shuts his eyes, hoping that someone’ll find him in that godforsaken alley and he won’t bleed out there. 

“Hey!” There’s a loud shout, and then Steve hears footsteps approaching quickly. His head’s spinning and his vision’s blurry, so he doesn’t even bother looking up. Instead, he tries to stand up, but he promptly falls back on his ass. He hears punching and grunting, and he tries to focus on that instead of the pain that’s currently in what feels like every part of his body. 

“Pick on someone your own size!” The voice shouts again. Then, a loud punch, a shout, and hurried footsteps. After that, someone comes up to him and he instinctively scoots back. “Hey, you alright?” The voice comes closer and then gasps. “трахать, Steve?! Oh God, are you okay?” 

That’s when he looks up. Bucky’s hovering over him, his eyebrows at his hairline, his soft curls falling on his face. 

“Steve, please, say somethin’!” The man pleads, worry in his voice, as he crouches down.

“‘M good,” Steve mumbles, closing his eyes. 

“Wait, lemme call an ambulance,” the brunette says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. 

“No!” Steve shouts, then clears his throat, embarrassed. “No, I’m fine, don’t. ‘S good.” 

“You’re obviously not,” Bucky states, lifting his eyebrow. 

“I’m okay, I swear. Just, help me stand up,” he says, not meeting the brunette’s eyes. Bucky straightens up and extends his hand for Steve to take. He then pulls him up and Steve has a bit of trouble standing straight. 

“Okay my ass,” Bucky huffs, steadying him. “We’ve gotta get you to the hospital.” 

“I said no. My mom’s a nurse, I just gotta get home,” Steve says firmly, his body aching. 

“You sure?” Bucky asks, still not convinced. 

“Yes, I’m sure. ‘S only three blocks away,” Steve says, taking a step forward. He sways a bit, and the brunette is quick to grab him by his arm. 

“I don’t like it, Steve. But…” he bites down on his lip, his brows furrowed. “Okay. I’m walkin’ you there though, " his voice is stern as he hooks his arm around Steve’s. 

“Fine,” the blonde snarls, then starts walking. 

Every steps sends a new wave of pain through Steve’s body and he clenches his teeth, his mouth still full of blood. He suddenly finds himself mad at Bucky, and he’s not even sure why. After all, the guy’s helped him. If not for Bucky, God knows what’d be happening to him right now. But, he’s still bitter about their Spanish class and the fact that Bucky told Natasha about his question. Plus, some homophobic asshole just beat the crap outta him, so he figures he’s got a right to be a little not in the mood.

“You always run towards strangers in the dark?” Steve asks, his voice still wavering after having the breath literally punched out of him.

“There are no strangers in the dark,” Bucky chuckles, tightening his grip on Steve’s arm. 

They get out of the alley, and start walking towards Steve’s apartment. He’s still struggling a bit with his breathing and if he’s leaning on Bucky, the brunette doesn’t call him on it. They walk slowly, Bucky keeping his arm tight around Steve, glancing at him every once in a while. 

They finally reach the block and Steve leans against the door entrance, searching his pockets for his keys. 

“You sure you’re gonna be fine?” Bucky asks, looking at Steve worryingly and biting his lower lip. 

“Yeah. My Ma should--" he stops abruptly, remembering the text. “ _Goddammit_ ,” Steve mumbles, closing his eyes for a second. 

“What?” The brunette asks, his hand reaching for Steve immediately. 

“She’s not there,” Steve answers quietly, shaking his head. 

“Then I’m comin’ with ya,” Bucky states, taking the keys out of Steve’s hand. 

“What?” He asks, surprised, his eyebrows rising. 

“Someone’s gotta patch you up,” Bucky says dismissively, then tries every key in the lock till the doors finally open. He steps inside, holding the doors for Steve. 

“I can do that myself,” Steve says stubbornly, crossing his arms. He hisses immediately at the pain in his wrist. 

“The point is, you don’t have to,” Bucky lifts the corner of his mouth, waiting for Steve to step inside. 

The blonde rolls his eyes, but steps into the building and starts climbing the stairs. The other man follows suit, and they walk to the second floor in silence. Steve stops at his door and lifts his palm up, waiting for Bucky to hand him the keys. The brunette does just that and Steve turns the lock, then pushes the doors open and comes inside. He switches the light in the entry hallway on, and slowly takes off his outerwear and shoes, the pain shooting through his body. Bucky does the same, then follows Steve inside, looking around. The blonde goes straight to the living room and flops down on the couch. 

“Whatcha doin’?” Bucky asks, lifting an eyebrow. 

“Sittin’ down?” Steve phrases it like a question, unsure of what he’s supposed to say, as it’s pretty obvious. 

“Steve, you’re covered in blood. Bathroom. Now,” the brunette crosses his arms and Steve groans exaggeratedly. 

He stands up, wincing, and pads down to the bathroom. Bucky goes after him, the both of them taking up all the little space there is. Steve sits down on a toilet lid, then points to the shelf under the sink. “The first-aid kit’s over there.” 

Bucky crouches down and takes the box out. Then, he takes a washcloth from the the rack and wets it. He kneels in front of Steve and starts wiping the dried blood from his cheek.

“Y’know I can do that, right?” Steve mumbles, looking at the brunette. His hair’s up in a bun, a couple of strings escaping and framing his face, and he’s wearing a grey jumper with black jeans. 

“Shaddup,” Bucky smiles softly, his brows slightly furrowed. He rinses the washcloth, then kneels again and takes off Steve’s glasses, placing them gently on the sink. The blonde blinks, his vision blurry. He exhales quietly as Bucky starts wiping the cut on his eyebrow and his lip. “God, Steve, it doesn’t look pretty,” he whispers, looking over the blonde’s face. 

“I don’t care,” Steve mumbles, closing his eyes and willing his muscles to relax. He’s dead on his feet, the exhaustion finally downing on him. All he wants to do is to curl in his bed and never leave. 

“Za to ja tak,” the brunette breathes and Steve opens his eyes, furrowing his brows. 

“What?” he realizes how close they are, barely inches separating their faces. They lock eyes for a second and Steve gets lost in the icy blue of Bucky’s gaze even without his glasses. The brunette’s eyes are full of worry and something else, but Steve can’t decide on what it is, as Bucky blinks, and leans back, clearing his throat. 

The man dumps the washcloth in the sink and reaches for the first-aid kit. He takes out a couple of small band-aids, a sanitizer and a gauze. He sprinkles it with the liquid and gently pats Steve’s cuts. The blonde sucks in a breath, feeling the sting. 

“Sorry,” Bucky whispers, biting his lip. 

“‘S alright,” Steve answers, closing his eyes again. He swallows down, realizing his mouth still taste like copper. He keeps himself from making a face, not wanting to worry Bucky even more.

It’s nice, he thinks, having someone do that for him. Sure, his Ma always patches him up after the shit he gets himself into, but this is different. First of all, Bucky’s not his relative and he definitely doesn’t have to do that. Steve was surprised that the brunette wanted to walk him back, let alone help him now. Plus, he seems so focused and gentle, not wanting to bring Steve anymore pain. And yes, his Ma does it too, but she usually talks his ear off while doing it. He’s glad they’re sitting in silence, the only sound being their breathing. It feels… well, intimate, and it’s not something Steve’s used to.

Bucky puts the band-aids on the cut of Steve’s eyebrow and his cheekbone. “I dunno if it’s enough, your Mom should probably check on it,” he says, his brows slightly furrowed. 

“Thanks,” the blonde smiles, then hisses as his lower lip is split. 

“Show me your hand,” Bucky orders, sticking his palm out. Steve rolls his eyes, but obliges. “Vai, Doamne,” he whispers. 

“What?” Steve asks, confused. It’s the second time the brunette speaks in a different language, and he’s reminded of their Spanish class. 

“What?” Bucky asks, looking up. 

“You keep speakin’ a different language,” he points out. 

“Oh,” the brunette stands up and rinses the washcloth. Then, he kneels in front of Steve again and starts cleaning his bloodied knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

“What does it mean? What you just said,” Steve sucks in a breath, being reminded of the pain in his wrist.

“Oh, God,” Bucky says quietly, trying his hardest to not move Steve’s hand. 

“And before?” 

“I don’t remember,” he mumbles, looking down stubbornly, his cheeks slightly painted pink. Steve knows it’s bullshit, but he doesn’t call Bucky on it. He figures it’s the least he can do, what with Bucky cleaning his cuts and what not. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” The blonde decides to be bold, giving in to all the exhaustion he’s feeling, and ask what’s been on his mind since the beginning of their class together. They’re already on the subject of languages, so it’s not really a stretch. 

Bucky nods, so Steve takes in breath. Then, “Why do you keep correcting me in Spanish?” He says it all on one breath, afraid to lose his courage. 

“What?” The brunette looks up, lost. His hand stops and he arches his brows slightly. 

“You keep showing off,” Steve mumbles, looking down, his boldness leaving him all at once.

“I don’t--oh, God. You think I’m showin’ off?” Bucky questions, surprised. 

“Well, yeah,” Steve shrugs, then hisses at the pain in his ribs.

“I’m not--I, uh…” he sighs, running a hand down his face. “I was tryin’ to help you.” 

“Help me?” Now it’s Steve’s turn to be surprised. 

“Yeah,” the brunette answers sheepishly. 

“How exactly was that helpin’ me?” Steve winces, his tone sounding too accusatory even to him. 

“I was that kid, once,” Bucky looks down, his shoulders sagging. “Always lost, never knew what the teacher wanted me to do. All the other kids made fun of me, ‘cause I couldn’t say a single sentence right. I know what it feels like, to… to have an entire class waitin’ for your answer in silence… Afraid you’re gonna embarrass yourself yet again,” he says quietly, then looks up at Steve, his eyes earnest. “I’m sorry, though. I won’t do that again,” he offers a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. 

Steve finds himself at a loss of words. “I… I’m--” he has no idea what to say. It never occurred to him that maybe Bucky wasn’t doing it on purpose. He was so focused on hating the guy that he never stopped to think on other alternatives. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he says genuinely. He can’t help but think of much Bucky must’ve gone through to be able to speak so many languages fluently. He always thought that the brunette was just talented, but he should’ve known that even with talent you have to work hard to achieve something. He’s the perfect example of that, and yet he just assumed the worst of Bucky. 

“‘S alright,” the other man shrugs, then continues to clean Steve’s hand. Once he’s happy with the way it looks, he stands up and rinses the washcloth. 

“No, it’s not! Nobody should make you feel worse about yourself just because you can’t say somethin’ the right way. Everyone’s gotta learn a language at some point, it’s bullshit,” Steve wants to go on, but Bucky places his hand on his shoulder. 

“Steve, ‘s okay, really. It was a long time ago,” Bucky states calmly, then crouches down. 

“Okay my ass,” Steve huffs. 

“God, you’re such a spitfire. No wonder you end up in fights,” the brunette chuckles, then starts putting sanitizer on Steve’s messed up hand. “Wait. How did you end up in this one anyway?” 

Steve groans. “That asshole was beatin’ someone up.”

“And you didn’t think to call the cops?” Bucky glances at him, then goes back to cleaning his knuckles. 

“He’d only landed one punch when I got there. Besides, I wasn’t actually lookin’ for a fight. He started it.” 

“I’m sure he did,” the brunette chuckles, then starts bandaging Steve’s hand. 

“He called them _‘fag,’_ what was I supposed to do?” He huffs, remembering the asshole. 

“Well, I’m glad you did the right thing, then,” the corners of Bucky's lips go up slightly. “Next time, just call the cops first, then go after the guy. Who knows what might’ve happened.”

Steve looks down at the guy at that. “What were you doin’ there, anyway?” He asks, curious. 

“Goin’ to Nat,” Bucky shrugs. 

“Nat as Natasha?” When Bucky nods, Steve gulps. “Isn’t she gonna be worried?” 

“Nah,” he says dismissively. “Guess I could text her, though,” the brunette stands up then, done with Steve’s hands. He closes the first-aid kit and puts it back under the sink. “Your Mom should still check your ribs,” he pulls the strings of his hair behind his ear. 

“Thank you,” Steve leans back, resting his head against cool bathroom tiles. 

Bucky pulls his phone from his jeans pocket and types quickly. “You need anythin’?” 

“Rinse my mouth, definitely,” Steve sighs, straightening up. 

“Imma go get ya a glass of water,” Bucky puts his phone on the verge of the sink and leaves the bathroom. 

Steve stands up and puts the phone on the glass shelf above the sink. He looks in the mirror at his reflection and lets out a deep breath. He looks like shit. His face is already bruising badly, his left eye a bit swollen. It’s a miracle his glasses aren’t broken, after how hard the guy’s hit him. His hair’s a mess and the cut on his lip is bleeding slightly. He turns the tap and washes his face, mindful of the band-aids. Then, he rinses his mouth, first with water and then with a mouth wash. It stings like a bitch, but he pays no mind to it. He spits the liquid out and dries his face with a towel. Next, Steve puts on his glasses and runs a hand through his hair, trying to get it to look somewhat presentable. He fails miserably, and sighs. He wants to leave to bathroom when Bucky’s phone screen lights up. He grabs the device, unable to keep himself from glancing at it. There’s a new message from Natasha that reads “пойдите получают его.” Steve frowns, but knows it wasn’t addressed to him in the first place. 

Steve leaves the room and goes to the kitchen. Bucky’s seated on one of the stools, a glass of water and two pills in front of him. Steve cocks his eyebrow, but doesn’t get a chance to say anything. 

“Aspirin. You’re probably gonna need it,” the brunette smiles, resting his arms on the kitchen island. 

“Thanks,” Steve sits in front of him, then slides his phone back. “You left it.” 

“Oh, uh, thank you,” the corners of Bucky’s mouth go up as he reads the message, his cheeks getting slightly flushed. He types something quickly, licking his lip, then looks up at Steve. 

“What?” The blonde asks, confused. 

“Nothin’,” Bucky replies, a small smile still on his face. He looks back at his phone, typing, then turns the screen off and puts the phone on the island. He slides the pills and the glass towards Steve, his eyebrow arched pointedly. 

“Okay, okay,” Steve shakes his head, chuckling, then pops the pills in his mouth and empties the glass. He stands up, and goes to the fridge. “You want somethin’ to eat?” 

“Nah, I’m good.” 

“You sure? We’ve got pasta with alfredo sauce,” he turns around, looking at the other man. “I’m pretty sure there are some cookies in the oven too. Ma loves bakin’,” he explains, seeing Bucky’s surprised expression. 

“You got me,” the brunette laughs. 

Steve takes the pasta out of the fridge and puts in on the stove. He turns the heat on, then bends down, hissing slightly, and opens the oven. Just as he thought, there’s a tray of chocolate chip cookies inside. He takes it out, puts a couple of them on a plate and hides the rest back in the oven. He puts the plate on the kitchen island and turns back to the stove. Steve stirs the pasta so it won’t burn and turns around just in time to see Bucky take a bite of a cookie. 

The brunette straight out moans. “ _Oh my God_ ,” he mumbles around a mouthful. 

Steve chuckles. “I know,” he smiles. His Ma is one hell of a baker, and she’d probably run her own bakery if she wasn’t a nurse. 

“These are amazin’!” Bucky exclaims, looking at the cookie he’s holding like it’s the most precious thing on Earth. 

“Ma’ll be glad to know it,” the blonde smiles. Sarah Rogers sure likes getting praise for her sweets. 

“Where is she anyway?” Bucky asks, taking another bite.

“In the hospital.” 

“Night shift?” The brunette inquires, finishing the cookie. 

“Nah, she always stays longer if they need her,” Steve says, then turns back to turn the heat off. He puts the pasta onto two plates and places them on the island. Then, he takes two forks and sits on the stool opposite Bucky. He passes the silverware to the brunette and they both dig in. Steve sighs happily, finally having something warm to eat. It’s amazing, and after everything that went down today he feels like he could inhale the entire plate. He takes another mouthful and that’s when he remembers. 

“Shit,” he mutters, putting the fork down. Bucky arches his eyebrow at him, as he stands up and goes to the bathroom. He comes back with a pill in his hand, then pours himself a glass of water and swallows it down. He hops back on the stool. “I’m lactose intolerant,” he explains, seeing Bucky’s puzzled expression. He knows that the pasta sauce is probably lactose free, but he still prefers to take the pill instead of being all bloaty later. 

“So, no mac‘n’cheese?” Bucky jokes, taking another mouthful. 

“Not really, no,” Steve grins. 

“Damn,” the brunette breathes, shaking his head. “You’re missin’ out big time,” he laughs. 

“Wait till you hear the rest,” he wiggles his eyebrows, jokingly. 

“There’s more?” Bucky asks, genuinely curious. 

“Tomatoes, nuts, sesame, shellfish and strawberries. But not raspberries, surprisingly,” he shrugs. 

“Holy shit, Steve.” 

“Also asthma, partial deafness in right ear and, y’know, bad sight,” he indicates his glasses and hearing aid. “At least I don’t have scoliosis anymore. That was a pain in the ass. That and almost non existent immune system,” Steve sighs. He didn’t meant to tell Bucky all this, dammit. He’s just… well, tired. _Exhausted_. Feeling a bit sorry for himself. _Whatever._

“How… I mean, damn,” Bucky stares at him, his face unreadable. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, my left arm’s fucked up. I can barely lift a cup with it,” he rolls up his left sleeve and Steve sucks in a breath. His arm is covered in scars, starting a bit over his wrist, going all the way up. Some of them are angry pink, visibly deep. 

“What--” Steve stops short. He’s not sure if the other man wants to talk about it, judging by the pained look on his face. 

“I had an accident,” Bucky shudders, looking at his arm, then rolls the sleeve down. “I’m lucky to have it at all,” he smiles, but it’s sad and obviously forced, not reaching his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers. He wants to reach out and squeeze Bucky’s hand, but he knows they’re not there yet, if they’ll ever be. Hell, a week ago they still barely talked. He knows that as soon as Bucky walks out of his apartment they’ll be back to being acquaintances, nothing more. 

“‘S fine,” the brunette shrugs, then takes another mouthful. He seems a bit lost in his thoughts, so Steve doesn’t say anything else, turning to his pasta instead. 

They sit in silence for a while, both lost in their heads. Now that Steve thinks of it, he’s never seen Bucky using his left arm, or having it not covered. He always wears long sleeved shirts or jackets, never rolling his sleeves up. He always carries his backpack on his right shoulder, his books in his right hand. He even packs his backpack using only his right hand. Steve tries to remember in which hand he held his coffee back in Starbucks, and he’s pretty sure it was the right one too. He can’t help but think how hard it must be. He finds himself feeling for Bucky, for every struggle he has to deal with on daily basis. 

A tap on his hand brings him back. “Steve?” The brunette’s looking at him, slightly amused. 

“Sorry,” he shakes his head, sending Bucky a small smile. “You were sayin’?”

“Can you sign?” he asks, a wicked smile on his face. 

“I… yeah?” 

‘Me too,’ Bucky signs, beaming. 

“Oh?” Steve frowns, intrigued. 

“Clint’s mostly deaf,” Bucky explains, grinning. “He wears his hearin’ aids to classes, but he doesn’t really like ‘em, so when we’re alone he reads lips or signs,” Bucky smiles, finishing off his pasta. 

“‘S nice of you to learn for him,” Steve remarks, standing up and taking two empty plates to the sink. 

“That asshole forced us. But he doesn’t speak Russian so we figured why not, y’know,” Bucky shrugs, then joins Steve by the sink. The blonde starts doing the dishes, then hands them over to the other man to dry. 

“So you just learned yet another language. Jesus,” Steve mutters, impressed. 

“‘S really not that big of a deal, Steve,” Bucky chuckles. 

“Buck, you’re--” He stops short. He has no idea how he wanted to finish that sentence in the first place, the only thoughts in his head being amazing, incredible, so fucking talented. Huh. He might be coming around to the brunette after all, but there’s still a long way to go. He shakes his head, his cheeks blushed. 

“What?” Bucky inquires, his eyebrow lifted, an amused smirk on his face. 

“Nothin’,” Steve mumbles, looking down and scrubbing the plate stubbornly. 

“Ouch, Steve,” the brunette breathes, pressing his right palm to his heart. 

“Y’know ‘s not what I meant!” Steve explains quickly, looking up at Bucky. Way to go, Rogers, really.

“I know, I know,” Bucky laughs. “Relax,” he beams, taking the second plate from Steve, drying it, then putting it on the side. “What time’s your Mom comin’ back?” he asks, hopping back on the stool.

Steve sits down opposite him and licks his lips, thinking. “I dunno. She said she’ll be back at night so…” he shrugs, then looks at the watch programmed into the oven. It’s a bit after midnight. “You can go, though. I mean, you don’t hafta stay. If that’s… Why?” he groans. Jesus, what’s with him today?

“I’ve got morning classes tomorrow. But I dunno if it’s okay to leave ya alone like that,” Bucky says, looking down and playing with his fingers.

“‘S fine, Buck. I’ll just go to sleep,” Steve smiles, trying to assure the other man it’s okay. Or maybe himself. Whatever. 

“What if you’ve got a concussion, though?” Bucky dares to look up at him through his eyelashes, and Steve’s reminded of the guy’s killer cheekbones, especially with the shadow cast on them. 

“I don’t, don’t worry,” Steve insists, standing up. “I’ll be fine.” 

Bucky takes in a deep breath. Then, “Alright,” he stands up too, pockets his phone and goes to the entry hallway. He puts on his shoes and his jacket, then runs a hand through his hair and bites down on his lip. “You sure?” The brunette asks again, his brows furrowed. 

“Yes, Bucky, I’m sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, keeping a smile from spreading on his face. 

Bucky still doesn't seem convinced though. He looks at Steve for a bit, then pulls out his phone and presses it to Steve’s palm. “Gimme your number. That way I can check on ya in the mornin’,” he says on one breath, looking everywhere but at Steve. 

The blonde cocks his eyebrow, but takes the phone and presses his number into it. He saves it under ‘Steve Rogers’ and hands the phone back. 

Bucky looks down at the screen, then up at the blonde. “Thanks,” he turns around and grabs the handle, but Steve stops him with a hand on his arm. 

“Wait!” Steve says quickly, taking a step forward. Bucky turns back again, his icy blues asking the silent question. “I just… Thank you. For, y’know, gettin’ rid of that fucker and all. I--I, uhh... “ he swallows down, then locks his eyes with Bucky’s. “Thank you,” Steve says sincerely, his hand reaching out, but dropping back down in an instant. 

“I’m glad I was there,” Bucky smiles, putting a strand of his hair behind his ear. “I’ll talk to ya tomorrow.” 

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, watching the brunette go out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop a comment please! even a single word is fine, I just wanna know how many people actually follow this story


	6. week six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today's chapter is a short one, but hey, who doesn't love some mother and son bonding, right? It's mostly just setting the scene. Anyways, enjoy!

Steve runs into the classroom, only a couple minutes late. He comes in quickly, mumbling an apology under his breath, then goes straight to his desk. He’s pleased to see that the other students left it empty for him. He slides onto a chair and shrugs off his coat, then takes his books out of his bag. They haven’t started doing any exercises yet, Ms. Santiago explaining what they’ll be working on today. He sighs, the adrenaline finally wearing down. He overslept, of course he did, and then couldn’t find his notebook. He’s dressed in a loose pair of dark jeans and an oversized blue sweater, the only items of clothing he could find in a hurry. His hair’s a mess and he knows he looks a bit worse for wear. His lower lip is still a bit swollen and his cut cheekbone is the perfect mix of deep purple and angry red. The cut on his eyebrow looks better, though his Ma still insisted that he wore a band-aid on it.

He’s not as bad as he thought he would be, if he’s being honest. After Bucky patched him up and left, Steve was fast asleep, drained from work and the fight. His Ma didn’t wake him up, and she was terrified when she saw him in the morning. She checked his ribs, thankfully none of them broken. His chest was still bruising badly, but he didn’t have to go to the hospital, which he counts as a win; he’s got a fair share of Sarah’s fussing, though. She said he was good to go, so he went on with his classes as usual. He didn’t see Bucky on Wednesday, nor Thursday, but the guy has been texting him, asking for updates. It was endearing, Steve thought, the way Bucky cared about his well being. He told the brunette that he was feeling good, which was only a small lie. Sure, he wasn’t at his best, but he had it worse. His ribs still hurt like a bitch and the cut on his lip stings whenever he smiles too much, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. The only thing that’s a pain in his ass is that colorful bruise on his cheek. He sees it from a corner of his eye whenever he looks down and everyone keeps asking about it. When Sam first saw him, he laughed so hard he almost cried, of course after making sure Steve’s not in pain. Peggy gasped and started fussing over him, and Sharon said she’s gonna need a visual of the asshole that’s done it to him so she could kick his ass. They all were surprised, and suspiciously pleased, when they found out it was Bucky who helped him and patched him up later. They’ve been asking Steve for updates in their group chat almost every hour and he always sends them a single middle finger emoji. 

Don’t get him wrong, he’s glad his friends care so much about him. But… But. What feels like a couple of days ago, he was still furious with Bucky and couldn’t hold a single conversation with him. Sure, it changed after Tuesday, but it’s not a 180 degrees change. They’re friendly, and yes, Bucky texts him every once in a while, but they’re not friends per se. However, Steve would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy Bucky’s company. It was nice and felt somehow familiar. It wasn’t awkward or tense, like Steve expected it’d be when he realized it was Bucky in that alley. They fit well and even the silence felt natural. He’s got an insight into the brunette’s head and he finally understood why Bucky keep answering Steve’s question in Spanish. 

Bucky is… well, he is a lot of things, now that Steve comes to think about it. Just like when they were in his apartment, he can think of a couple things to describe to guy. He’s obviously caring and genuine. From what Steve’s observed, he’s also incredibly smart and thoughtful. He has that kind of aura around him that just draws other people. He smiles easily and any conversation with him just flows naturally. It also helps that he’s aesthetically pleasing to look at. His pale, icy blue eyes light up whenever he approaches a subject he likes, and when he beams, his eyes crinkle in the most endearing way. His wavy brown hair falls on his shoulders, framing his face and making his eyes stand out. Even when it’s in a bun atop of his head, a couple of strings fall out and rest gently on his forehead. And his jawline, _oh God_ , his jawline. Steve’s fingers itch to draw the guy even thinking about it. His face is sharp, cheekbones standing out, making his cheeks look a bit hollow. His lips are plump and pink, especially when he worries his lower lip between his slightly crooked teeth. On top of all that, he’s also well built, every shirt he wears stretching on his chest and biceps. Steve’s not blind and he can’t deny that the guy’s handsome. Breathtakingly so. Steve’s not sexually attracted to him, or to anyone really, but he still likes to look at Bucky’s large frame. He was always fascinated by the way muscles work and move, given the fact that he never had much himself. It’s one of the reasons he’s focusing on his human body class so much. Steve finds bodies so inspiring it always pains him that his is failing more often than not. The way bodies move, the way muscles flex, each one responsible for a different part, it’s always been engrossing to him. 

“Steve?” 

He blinks, realizing the entire class is looking at him and he’s staring at Bucky and _oh Jesus_. 

“Steve, are you with us?” Ms. Santiago says, lifting her eyebrow.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles feeling his cheeks burn. Bucky sends him a lopsided grin, wiggling his eyebrows and Steve wants the Earth to swallow him up. 

“Pay attention, please,” the teacher scolds him, and moves on with the class. 

Steve pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looks down at his notebook. He absentmindedly drew a pair of eyes, with thick long eyelashes. He groans, swearing inwardly and rips the page out, then puts in in his bag. There’s no wonder in whose eyes those are, and his cheeks flush even more. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time and sees one unread message, sent a couple minutes ago. 

**Bucky Barnes** : do i have smth on my face

Steve sighs, knowing he’s been caught staring. He decides to play dumb, though. 

**Steve Rogers** : no, why?

He turns the screen off, but leaves the phone on the desk. Not a minute has passed when he gets a reply. 

**Bucky Barnes** : u were starin

 **Steve Rogers** : were not 

**Bucky Barnes** : were too 

**Steve Rogers** : jerk 

**Bucky Barnes** : punk 

Steve bites down on his lip to keep the smile from spreading on his face, then hisses quietly when the cut stings again. He shakes his head slightly, hearing Bucky chuckling on his left, then pockets his phone. He wills his blush to go away, looking at Ms. Santiago, casting a quick glance at Bucky before. 

*

Steve turns a knob and pushes the door, coming inside of the apartment. He sighs, knowing he’ll finally be able to relax, and shrugs off his jacket, toeing off his shoes. He takes a beanie off his head and runs a hand through his hair. 

“I’m back!” Steve calls, going further into the entry hallway. 

“In the kitchen!” His Ma shouts back and he follows her voice. “How was work?” She asks when he enters the room. 

Steve shrugs. “Busy,”he states, then comes up to Sarah, who’s sitting on one of the stools, and gives her a quick peck on the cheek. “You?” He takes a glass out of the cupboard and pours some water in it, then takes a long sip. 

“Tiring,” she sends him a small smile. “Feeling any better? Let me check that cuts.” 

“Ma, I’m fine, stop it,” he motions for her to sit down again, as she already started standing up. 

“Stevie--” 

“I’m not one of your patients, Ma,” Steve interrupts sternly and she winces. “‘M sorry, I’m just…” 

“I know, leanbh, I know,” she reaches out for him so he grabs her hand, squeezing gently. 

“Whatcha bakin’?” Steve hops on the stool opposite her and nods his head towards the oven. 

“Spinach cake with cream and pomegranate.” Steve makes a face. “Cut it, Steve, it’s really good!” Sarah chuckles seeing his expression. 

“Yeah, I’ll pass,” he shakes his head, grimacing. 

Sarah swats his arm. “Your loss,” she shrugs. “So, how’s the boy that helped you? What was his name again?” 

“Bucky. And he’s good, I think. I dunno, haven’t talked to him that much, really.” 

She smiles. “Well, that’s too bad. He seems like a nice young gentleman.” 

“Ma…” Steve whines, rolling his eyes. He knows where this is going. Every time he meets someone new, Sarah starts planning their wedding. She knows about his sexuality and has always supported him, but, as she puts it, she can’t stand to watch him being alone. Steve knows she means well, but he still wishes she’d stop. 

“What? Can’t a mother be looking forward to seeing her only child in a healthy relationship?” She smirks, pretending to be offended. They’ve had this conversation a thousand times already, but she loves bringing this up. Deep down Steve knows that she just wants him to be happy, but, well, it’s not really that simple. 

“I don’t even know if he’s bi, let alone if he’ll wanna be in a relationship without sex,” Steve grumbles. When he came out to Sarah, she insisted on educating herself in his sexuality so now she knows _a lot_. He’s glad though, because their conversations flow much more easily now.

“Well, maybe you should. He seems nice,” she squeezes his hand, then gets up to check the cake. 

“You haven’t even met him!” Steve points out, chuckling. 

“I didn’t have to! He stood up for you, didn’t he?” She sends him a knowing smile over her shoulder, then takes the tray out of the oven and puts it on a cooling rack. 

“Well, yeah, but--” 

“No buts, Stevie,” Sarah cuts him off, narrowing her eyes as she sits down again. “Do you like him?” 

“I do. I mean, I dunno… I guess he’s not as bad as I thought at the beginning,” he shrugs one shoulder, looking down. 

“Oh?” Sarah breathes, raising her eyebrows. 

“He’s the guy from Spanish,” she still looks lost, so he explains. “The one that kept answering for me? I’m sure I told you.” 

“You mean the one who knows a lot of languages and hangs out with the redhead Sharon was asking about?” 

“You sure have a selective memory,” Steve chuckles. “But yeah, that’s him.” 

“I remember the important things," she winks at him, then takes a sip of her tea. “Speaking of, how’s Sharon? I haven’t seen her in a while.” 

“Oh, uh, she’s good, I guess. You know her,” he shrugs. “She wanted to walk me to work today so ‘no one would jump you Steve, I’m worried.’ She was waitin’ just outside my classroom.” 

“That girl’s got brains, just like Peggy,” Sarah shakes her head fondly. She fell in love with both of Carters when Steve started being friends with them and nothing has changed. “See, she goes after what she wants. You could learn from her.” 

“Ma…” he whines. “I’m real good just where I am right now, thank you” 

“I know you are, leanbh, I know. I’d just like to see you with someone who loves my boy as much as I do,” she squeezes his hand and sends him a small smile. 

“I know, I just… Look, I--I like him, alright. But just as a friend. ‘S all there is and I’m--I don’t wanna project somethin’ that isn’t even there on him. I barely know the guy.” 

“Steve, honey, I’m not pressuring you into anything. Just keep an open mind, yeah? And I don’t even mean that Bucky guy, even though he sure seems nice. Just, anyone, really. I just want you to be happy.” 

“I know, Ma. I know.” 

 

*

Steve groans turning off the alarm on his phone. It’s been vibrating on the nightstand for the last five minutes and he can’t ignore it any longer if he wants to stay sane. He throws the phone somewhere on his bed and rubs his eyes. It’s Monday morning which means he has to go to work. He sighs, running a hand through his bed hair, knowing this will be a long day. Steve’s agreed to work nine hours today, instead of the usual six, because one of his coworkers has to leave early. He figures it’s the least he can do, bearing in mind that they come in for him whenever he’s sick. 

Steve sits up and stretches out, popping his spine, then goes straight to the bathroom, noticing Sarah’s already gone to work. He relieves himself, then grabs a quick shower, relaxing under the warm spray of water. Once he’s done, he brushes his teeth and runs a comb through his wet hair. Then, he goes back to his bedroom, puts on beige slacks and throws on a white tee with a black blazer. Steve gives himself a quick once over in the mirror and, happy with the outcome, pockets his phone and puts on his glasses, as well as the hearing aid. He doesn’t even bother to make the bed, knowing he’ll crawl straight back into it once he’s back, and goes to the kitchen. His Ma left him some pancakes for breakfast and his mouth waters just at the sight of it. He makes a mental note to thank her later as he’s taking his first bite, and then pulls out a container with pasta he’s prepared last night. Steve doesn’t usually bring lunch with him, buying something there, but even he knows he won’t last nine hours on a single sandwich. 

After he’s done with breakfast and took his pills, he shrugs on his coat, puts on his boots and leaves the apartment, checking his phone on the staircase. It shows one unread message and Steve expects it to be either from Sam, telling him about how his date last night went, or Peggy, asking him to keep her table at Starbucks ready. He clicks on the app and is surprised to find it was neither of them. 

**Bucky Barnes** : good luck @ work tday

 

*

“I’m home, leanbh!” Steve hears Sarah even before he hears the door open. He smiles, jumping off the stool in the kitchen and goes to the entry hall.

“Hi, Ma,” he gives her a quick peck on the cheek and takes the grocery bag out of her hand. “How was work?” 

“Ahh, you now how it is,” she dismisses, taking off her jacket and follows him to the kitchen. 

“You did extra hours again,” he states the obvious, knowing starting this conversation yet again won’t change a thing. They’ve had it what feels like a thousand times already, but it always ends the same. 

“Stevie, you know I can’t leave those poor people just because my shift is done. If they need me, I’m there,” Sarah says calmly, sitting down and nodding her thanks to him as he slides a glass of water her way. 

“There’re other nurses too, Ma.” 

“And they need my help as well.” 

“I swear to God…” Steve mumbles, heating up dinner for her. He decided to make her favorite Irish potato dish, only the vegan version that they both perfected. 

“Is this colcannon?” She beams, lighting up. 

“I realized you were workin’ late, so,” he shrugs, giving her the bowl. “The least I could do. Oh, and--” his phone chimes in that exact moment and he quickly takes it from the kitchen island, reading the message.

“And?” Sarah asks, taking a mouthful of her dinner. 

“... what?” He furrows his brows, looking up at her. “Oh, right, thanks for the pancakes, they were great,” Steve sends her a quick smile and looks at his phone again, typing. 

“Tell them I say hi and that I’ll be waiting for them this weekend,” she says in between bites. 

“Wha--Who?” He looks up confused, pocketing his phone. 

“Peggy, Sharon and Sam! You’re talking to them, aren’t you?” She shakes her head, amused, taking a sip out of the glass. 

A bit goes by, then, “I… yeah,” he swallows down, looking anywhere but at his Ma. She can tell whenever he’s lying. 

“Steve… Leanbh, look at me,” Sarah stops eating, fork mid-air.

“Yeah?” He finally looks up, his cheeks already tinted with pink. 

“Who were you talking to?” She smiles encouragingly. 

“Ma, I’m not a child, c’mon…” he whines, knowing he’s been caught. 

“You’re my child, Stevie,” she shakes her head, taking another bite. “Besides, I wanna know what’s going on in your life, I feel like I barely see you!” 

“Oh God…” he breathes, running a hand down his face. And they say he’s dramatic. “Bucky,” Steve sighs. 

“Bucky?” She cocks her eyebrow. 

“Yes, Ma, I was texting Bucky. Y’know, that guy from Spanish?” 

“Lose the attitude, Steve, I know who he is. Just, the last time we talked about him, you told me you two are not even friends.”

“What attitude? I was just… never mind,” he shakes his head, groaning. “He texted me this mornin’ and we kinda kept talkin’. ‘S not what you think, Ma, really, we’re just… Why am I even talkin’?” Steve mumbles. 

Sarah smirks, seeing how consternated Steve is. She says nothing though, finishing her dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, drop me a line?


	7. week seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the slight delay, had a real busy day, plus, y'know a4 and all that. scream with me?
> 
>  
> 
> unbetaed (is this a word even idk) so bear with me

“We are going to talk about the past today. Everything that happened and does not correlate with the present. Think of it as Past Simple if you wish; things that happened at a specific day, in a given year, things that do not longer concern us…” 

That’s when Steve stopped listening to Ms. Santiago and started doodling in his notebook. He wanted to focus on the subject, he really did, but the week was crazy in terms of both work and uni assignments, and he was dead on his feet by the time Thursday rolled around. His coworker agreed to take his today’s shift, so only this Spanish lesson separates him from his bed and, most importantly, the weekend. 

So, of course, by the time they have to do exercises, Steve finds himself lost. He has no idea how to conjugate the verbs or whether the tense is appropriate or not. He sighs, running a hand through his hair, and goes for the easy way out, which is the Internet. He finds a website that conjugates verbs for him, so he only has to write them down. He feels bad about it, knowing he’ll have to do all the work by himself, but at this moment he couldn’t care less. He just wants to be home, order takeout and spend the evening watching Netflix. 

With his luck, he’s asked to read every other example and most of them turn out to be good. He’d mentally pat himself on the back, if he actually did them himself. As the class comes to an end, he quickly packs his bag and flees the room, leaving all the other students behind him for once. 

 

*

Steve drops his bag and his jacket in the entry hallway and goes straight to his room. He’s got another four or five hours till Sarah gets back home, so he figures he’ll wait with ordering dinner. He knows she’d appreciate if he cooked something himself but he’s spent, and they hardly ever order takeout, so he thinks he can treat them both every once in a while. He falls flat on his bed, thanking himself mentally for making it this morning, and reaches for his laptop. While waiting for it to fire up, he fishes his phone out of the jeans pocket and checks for any new messages. 

_**Aces** _

**Peggy** : Steve I’m at starbucks why aren’t you here 

**Shar** : I was outside ur classroom again but u werent there either 

**Sam** : is he sick again

**Sam** : oh man, dont tell me ur sick 

**Peggy** : Steve? 

**Sam** : I’ve got news yall gotta meet me tomorrow 

**Shar** : did u get it?

**Sam** : rude 

**Sam** : also yes 

**Shar** : atta boy 

**Peggy** : you’re both disgusting 

Steve groans, as he usually does when their group chat comes to life, then starts typing. 

**Steve** : im not sick

**Steve** : just switched shifts and left the classroom first 

**Steve** : and yeah ur gross 

**Sam** : look whos back 

**Steve** : aaaaand gone again 

He mutes the conversation, knowing that otherwise it would have no end. They’re either not texting at all or texting for hours with no end. He goes to turn the screen off when he sees there’s another message. 

**Bucky Barnes** : someone was in a hurry

**Steve Rogers** : what can i say 

**Bucky Barnes** : ur ok tho?

**Steve Rogers** : just tired 

**Bucky Barnes** : who wouldnt be after nailin those exercises 

**Steve Rogers** : internet 

**Steve Rogers** : so helpful 

**Bucky Barnes** : cheater 

**Steve Rogers** : guilty as charged 

**Bucky Barnes** : y tho? 

**Bucky Barnes** : s easy 

**Steve Rogers** : if you listened to anythin ms santiago said then I bet 

**Bucky Barnes** : at least you werent starin at me again 

**Steve Rogers** : again, i wasnt!!

**Bucky Barnes** : sure pal 

**Bucky Barnes** : for real tho hmu if u need any help 

**Steve Rogers** : thanks 

**Bucky Barnes** : or if i had to kick another ass for ya 

**Steve Rogers** : that was one time 

**Bucky Barnes** : one too many stevie 

He smiles at the nickname, feeling a blush spreading on his cheeks. He rolls onto his stomach, laptop long forgotten, and starts typing again. 

**Steve Rogers** : how will i ever repay u 

**Bucky Barnes** : dunno 

**Bucky Barnes** : gotta think of smth real good for all the struggle 

**Steve Rogers** : just name it

**Bucky Barnes** : ur gonna regret that 

**Bucky Barnes** : seriously tho, u busy tmr?

**Steve Rogers** : not really

**Bucky Barnes** : lets go get coffee 

**Bucky Barnes** : i’ll help u with spanish

**Steve Rogers** : how is that repaying u 

**Bucky Barnes** : dunno 

**Bucky Barnes** : keepin me company

**Steve Rogers** : deal

**Steve Rogers** : but im paying 

**Bucky Barnes** : deal

**Steve Rogers** : see u tmr then buck

**Bucky Barnes** : :) 

Seeing that emoji, Steve fights a smile of his own. 

*

Steve groans turning off the alarm on a Saturday morning. He’s made plans with both Bucky and his friends and he has to get a move on if he’s to be on time. He rubs his eyes, then sits up and pops his spine. Then, Steve pads down to the bathroom to relieve himself and takes a quick shower. He washes his hair and scrubs himself down, then puts a towel around his waist and goes back to his bedroom. He hears his Ma singing along with the radio in the kitchen and smiles to himself, closing the doors behind him. He goes to his closet and thinks about what to wear. Steve doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard, but he also doesn’t want to look like he’s just woken up and threw on whatever he found on the floor. He decides on black skinny jeans and a white tee, shrugging on his burgundy cardigan. Then, he puts on his glasses, running a hand through his still wet hair and, once he’s done making the bed, goes to join his Ma. 

“Mornin’,” Steve says, coming into the kitchen and giving Sarah a quick peck on the cheek, then indicating his right ear to let her now he’s not wearing his hearing-aid. 

“Good morning, leanbh,” she responds slowly so he could read her lips, with a smile on her face. “Don’t you look nice!” She says a bit louder, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking him up and down. “Where are you going?” 

“Oh, umm…” Steve feels his cheeks burning. “I’m gonna go out to study and then see Sam, Peggs, and Sharon.” 

“Since when are you going out to study?” Sarah smiles. “Who are you?” She chuckles, seeing him all flustered. 

“Come on, Ma, ‘s no big deal,” he squirms on a stool, not meeting her eyes. 

“Of course it’s not,” she dismisses, putting a plate of hot pancakes in front of him. 

Steve takes his usual dosage of meds, then drinks a glass of water before digging in. 

“So, who are you going with?” Sarah asks, sitting opposite Steve with her own plate an a cup of tea. 

“Bucky," Steve mumbles, looking down, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. 

She senses his hesistant mood, just nodding and not saying anything. They eat in silence, the only sound coming from the radio. Once they’re both done, Steve takes their plates to the sink and washes them. 

“So…” Sarah starts, standing on his left. “Say hello from me to your friends.” 

“I will,” Steve promises, drying the dishes. 

“Bucky included,” she smirks, seeing his cheeks turning pink again. 

“Ma…” he whines. 

“What?” She chuckles. “I’m not saying anything, Stevie.” 

He sighs. “Okay,” then, he dries his hands and turns to her. “I’ll be back in the late afternoon so don’t worry.” 

“Tell Peggy, Sharon and Sam I’ll have a pie waiting for them tomorrow,” Sarah squeezes his shoulder, smiling. 

“Will do,” Steve promises again, then leaves the kitchen and goes back to his bedroom. 

He puts his Spanish books in his bag along with his notebook and one of his sketchbooks, then puts on his hearing aid and reaches for his phone. He runs his hands through his hair again, making it look more presentable and leaves the room. He puts on his coat and wraps a scarf around his neck. 

“See ya, Ma!” Steve says in the general direction of the kitchen, then leaves the apartment. 

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket once he’s downstairs and shoots a quick text to Bucky. 

**Steve Rogers** : omw! 

 

*

“Steve!” 

The blonde stops in his tracks, still in the doorway, looking to his left, and sure enough, Bucky’s seated at one of a smallest tables near the window, waving at him with a smile in his face. Steve grins himself, going towards the brunette. 

They agreed on meeting in a small, local coffee shop about 15 minutes walk from Steve’s apartment. The place is called _Asgard_ and the owners are brothers, both tall Norwegian guys, one with blonde long hair and a full beard, the other with long black hair, often clean shaven. Thor, the blonde, is full of positive energy and his booming voice always greets everyone coming through the door. He’s friendly and likes to know everything there is about his regulars. He’s also huge, his muscles almost ripping all of his shirts. Steve may or may not have done a couple of drawings of the guy, as always fascinated with the man’s physique. Loki, the other man, is a complete opposite of his brother. He’s quiet and often comes across as closed off. He barely speaks to anyone but Thor, or the staff of _Asgard_ , his eyes assessing all the customers suspiciously. Steve’d tried talking to him a couple times but without any luck. 

The place itself is a perfect mix of the brothers’ personalities. There are big tables in the center, with lots of chairs and stools but there are also tables in the back, with one or two chairs, not really visible from the outside of the cafe. The walls are grey, some of them covered in dark bricks, and there are barely any flowers. The menu board behind the bar is just a blackboard with drinks scribbled down in white chalk. The counter and all the shelves are made of dark wood that matches the bricks on the walls. It’s all raw and simple, looking very rustic and very much like the perfect mix between Thor and Loki. 

“Hi, Buck,” Steve says once he’s close enough. 

“Hi,” the guy smiles softly, his cheeks slightly pink. 

Steve starts unwrapping his scarf, then shrugs his coat off. “Thanks for doin’ this.” 

“Sure,” Bucky shrugs, taking in all the books Steve’s fishing out of his bag. 

Once he’s done taking his books out, Steve finally looks at the table and furrows his brows, seeing a cup of coffee and two muffins sitting there.

Bucky sees his expression, but takes it the wrong way. “Oh, uhh, sorry, I didn’t know how you take your coffee,” he says sheepishly, fiddling with the hem if his left sleeve, his hair falling on his face. 

“No, it’s um… I thought I was payin’?” Steve says quickly.

“Well, yeah, but, uhh, I dunno, I didn’t wanna just sit there so…” Bucky trails off, looking up at Steve and giving him a shy smile. 

Steve blinks. “Lemme repay you then," he states, reaching for his wallet. 

“What, no, Steve, c’mon!” Bucky protests, putting his hair behind his ear. A couple of curls escape, though, falling on his cheek, and Steve finds himself mesmerized with the man’s cheekbones yet again. “Just go get yourself a cup and we can start.” 

Buck’s looking everywhere but at Steve, and he senses how uncomfortable that is, so he sighs and goes up to the counter. Steve greets Thor, the guy giving him a strong hug from behind the counter, and then says hello to Loki, knowing there won’t be any reply. He sees Sif through the back doors and waves at her, too. Finally, Steve orders a large caramel macchiato with soy milk, chatting with Thor while waiting for his drink, and goes back to their table. He sits opposite Bucky, taking a sip of his drink and straight out moans. He’s always had a sweeth tooth and a sickeningly sweet caramel coffee is exactly what he needs right now. 

“You’ve got uhh…” Bucky says quietly, his hand pointing at Steve’s lips. 

The blonde realizes he’s got cream on his upper lip and licks it off quickly. “Thanks,” he says, looking up at the other man. 

“Sure,” Bucky clears his throat looking down and Steve could’ve sworn the brunette was looking at his lips. “So, should we get to it?” 

They get to work right after that. Spending a couple hours going through Steve’s books and notebooks, Bucky explains to him how the tense works and when to use it. They go through a long list of exceptions verbs and their conjugations, then decide to do exercises and homework. Taking the opportunity, Steve also asks Bucky about the things he didn’t understand during their previous lessons, the brunette explaining everything he can. Once they’re done, Steve feels way better about his Spanish and he’s finally not stressed about their next class. After they’re finished with homework, the conversation flows easily, both of them jumping from one topic to another, from their favorite subject to the drinks they both hate. Steve finds himself enjoying the conversation with Bucky, once again swearing at himself mentally for judging the guy so quickly. They both talk about their families and Steve’s surprised to find that Bucky’s parents live in Indiana. 

“Why do ya study here, then?” The blonde asks, genuinely curious. 

“Nat was going here and I’ve always liked it here. I, uh... I had an aunt here, she moved to Indiana, too,a couple years ago, but we’d always come here in the summer,” Bucky shrugs. “I dunno, I--I guess I’ve always liked big cities.” 

“Your parents are cool with you living that far?” Steve takes a bite of his muffin, then takes a drink of his long cold coffee. 

“Yeah. We’re still close, and it’s only two hours flight, so,” Bucky shrugs again, playing with his empty cup. “Anyways, I don’t wanna bore you with my family stories,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Steve can tell something is off, so he decides to change the subject. 

“You’re ready for midterms?” Steve asks, finishing his coffee. 

“Can you ever be ready for that?” Bucky chuckles, more comfortable now. he sits back, running a hand down his face. “Hell no, I’ve still got a paper to write that’s due in two weeks and then gotta study. You?” 

Steve sighs. “Same. I’ve done all my papers, but still have to do one painting that’s a pain in the ass.” 

“Oh?” Bucky cocks his eyebrow. 

“Hafta paint someone in the nude and turn it in with the person’s signature,” Steve groans, running a hand through his hair. 

The brunette chuckles. “And that’s a pain in the ass because…” he drifts off, looking at Steve expectantly. 

“I don’t have a model!” Steve exclaims, slumping on his chair. 

“What about your friends?” Bucky asks, leaning forward. 

“I--I can’t ask them,” the blonde mumbles, not looking at the other man. 

“Why not?” 

“I couldn’t look them in the eyes after. Besides, none of them could keep a straight face or sit still that long,” Steve shakes his head. 

They sit in silence for a while, Steve eating bits of his muffin and Bucky worrying his lower lip in his teeth. Then, “I’ll do it,” Bucky says, his eyes fixated on the table. 

Steve chokes on his muffin. “Wha--What?” He chokes out, coughing. 

“I’ll do it,” Bucky repeats, stronger this time, looking straight at the blonde. 

“Why?” Steve asks, bewildered. 

“Well, you... you need someone. And I can keep a straight face _and_ sit still for hours so,” he shrugs. “Why not.” 

Steve’s eyebrows skyrocket. “You’re willing to sit still for hours while I paint you. Naked,” he repeats, still disbelieving. 

“Yeah. Sounds like fun,” Bucky sends him a devilish smirk. At that moment, his phone starts to ring, but he looks at it and turns the sound off. 

Steve cocks his brow. “You’re not gonna take this?” 

“Nope,” the brunette responds, popping the ‘p’ and shrugging one shoulder. “So, when do you need me? 

“Oh, umm… I’m usually free Thursday mornings and the weekends. Are you sure though?” Steve furrows his brows, looking at Bucky intently. 

“Thursdays work for me,” the brunette smiles. 

Steve swallows down. He’s grateful, of course he is, but… But. he’s not sure why he isn’t excited. He’s been wanting to draw Bucky for ages, the itch in his fingers being there more often than not. Hell, he’s drawn Bucky even without realizing it before. It’s a great opportunity, and he can’t say he can’t wait to get to it. Bucky’s got a great body, his muscles looking sharp and hard. If Steve could capture the brunette’s strength, highlighting his sharp edges, as well as his soft side, the painting could turn out great. He’s still hesitant though. They have a good relationship and he’d hate to see it fall apart because of something stupid like that. He has to admit he had a hard time warming up to Bucky, but now that they’re here, he can’t believe how stupid he was. The brunette’s a great guy and talking to him is as easy as talking to Sam, if not easier. 

Steve doesn’t have time to dwell on this, though, as Bucky’s phone rings again, this time with a text. The brunette glances at it and then his brows furrow. He reads the message and sucks in a breath. 

“Son of a bitch!” Bucky exclaims, dropping his phone on the table as his face pales. 

“Bucky?” Steve asks, looking at him puzzled and a bit worried. 

“Shit, fuck, I’m sorry,” Bucky says quickly, then stands up. “I’m sorry, I hafta go,” he throws all his stuff in his backpack and zips it up. 

“What happened?” 

“I’m sorry, Stevie, I hafta run,” Bucky shrugs on his jacket and slings his backpack on his right shoulder. “I’ll text ya about that painting,” he sends Steve a half smile, then takes his phone and all but flees from the cafe. 

*

“So what, he just ran?” Peggy asks, her eyebrow arched in disbelief. 

“Yeah, he… yeah,” Steve sighs, slumping down in his chair. 

The four of them, including Sam and Sharon, are seated in their usual meeting place. Steve had texted their group chat after Bucky fled from _Asgard_ , telling them he’ll be there earlier. They all wanted to know what happened right away, but Steve promised he’ll tell them everything once they meet. He gathered his books, said goodbye to Thor and left the cafe, heading straight for the subway. The walk there took him only a couple minutes, then it was about fifteen minutes on the train and he was standing right outside their usual spot. He waited for the rest inside, ordering another caramel coffee, decaf this time, minding his poor heart condition, and doodling in his sketchbook. If he sketched a certain pair of big icy blue eyes, hidden behind a curtain of soft brown curls, so what. He’s just getting used to his model, that’s all. 

Now that he told his friends everything that’s happened, he still has trouble understanding the situation. Something must’ve obviously happened, otherwise Bucky wouldn’t turn pale and all but run from the cafe. He was shocked and upset and Steve can’t stop thinking about the look on the guy’s face. It was terrifying, seeing Bucky being this scared and Steve wishes there was something he could do. He already texted the brunette, asking if everything’s okay, but he’s still waiting for a reply. 

“Maybe he just forgot to turn in a paper or something,” Sharon shrugs, trying to stay positive. She’s done it before and they all went through the process of writing a 10 pages essay in a day with her. 

Steve sends her a weak smile, all of them knowing that’s just not something Bucky would do. He’s known from being on top of all his classes, he wouldn’t just forget about something that important. 

“Don’t worry about him, Steve. He’s said he’ll text you, you just have to wait,” Peggy squeezes his hand reassuringly. 

“I know, I just… The look on his face…” Steve trails off, shaking his head. He shouldn’t worry that much. They’re barely friends and even that might change after the painting. Still, here he is, worrying about the guy that saved _his_ ass, not the other way around. 

“We’ll start worryin’ if he won’t text you by Monday, how ‘bout that?” Sam asks, looking around the table. Everyone nods their heads and Sam clasps Steve on his arm. “So, y’all read to hear about Riley?” He asks, happiness radiating from the smile stretching his face. 

“Bring it on!” Sharon exclaims, then leans forward resting her arms against the table. Peggy chuckles and throws her arm around her cousin, looking at Sam expectantly. Steve shakes his head, but he leans forward as well, the three of them being all ears. 

“So, this was hands down the best date I’ve ever been on, man! The guy’s crazy, lemme tell ya. We went to the cinema and y’all know how there’s this Hitchcock month, right? So, I’m standin’ there, lookin’ at the _Psycho_ poster, y’know how I love this movie, so I’m standin’ there waitin’ for him, and he comes up from behind giving me a hug. Scared the shit outta me, but damn, this guy’s hugs,” Sam shakes his head fondly, remembering. “So anyways, we start talkin’, and I ask him what he wants to see, and he says he’s already got tickets and it’s a surprise. So we go into the room and sit down, waitin’ for it to get dark and what starts playing? _Psycho!_ Almost lost it, swear.” 

“Get it, Sam!” Sharon laughs, bumping his shoulder. They all smile, knowing how much Sam loves Hitchcock’s work. 

“It’s not even all! After the movie we grabbed a pizza and just wandered around the city. We talked for hours and damn, man, if he’s not the one.” 

“Holy shit, Sam!” Steve exclaims, at the same time as Peggy says “Oh my God!”

“Don’t I know that!” Sam laughs, his grin taking all over his face. “We went to my place after, drank a couple beers and, Steve cover your ears, banged like there was no tomorrow.” 

They all double with laughter, even Steve, who’s shaking his head. “You’re crazy,” he says, swatting his friend on the arm. 

“Warned you, didn’t I,” Sam winks, then leans back. “For real though, he’s amazing. Can’t wait to see him again.” 

“Aww, Wilson,” Sharon cooes, resting her head on Peggy’s shoulder. 

“Stop, he’ll get shy,” Peggy chuckles.

“Who, Sam? Do you even know him?” Steve laughs, seeing the expression on the other man’s face. 

Sam shrugs after a bit, though. “True.” 

Steve shakes his head as Sam sticks out his tongue at him. 

“So, since y’all now know that my love life’s amazin’ how ‘bout you?” Sam smirks, the bastard. “Sharon? Updates on Natasha?” 

Said girl turns pink and quickly looks around. “Keep your fucking voice down, Wilson,” she hisses, then groans. “Jesus. No,” Sharon looks around again, making sure no one knows them here. “Saw her when I was waiting for Steve after their Spanish class but that’s pretty much it. Every time I saw her on campus she was either with that Clint guy or Bucky. She smiles at me every time, though,” she looks down, her cheeks still a little bit hot.

“You’ll get her,” Peggy smiles softly at her cousin, squeezing her tighter. 

“How ‘bout you, Peggs?” Sam asks, his focus on the other Carter now. “I heard about this girl, now what was her name…” he drifts off, his arched eyebrow and a smirk betraying him. 

“Oh, shut it Wilson, you know damn well. She’s Angie and we’re doing great, thanks,” Peggy rolls her eyes, her face in a perfectly stoic expression. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Carter, I saw the eyes you two are givin’ each other! Don’t forget she’s in my department,” Sam narrows his eyes and the look on Peggy’s face hardens. 

“What are you saying?” The brunette asks, folding her arms on the table. 

“I’m sayin’ you both are into each other but none will actually make the move.” 

“Are you calling me a coward?” Peggy asks leaning forward, her British accent thickening whenever she’s angry.

“Oh, I never said that,” Sam smirks, knowing his little game is working. 

“Just implied,” Peggy says, and oh, if looks could kill. 

“Don’t mind me, I obviously have no idea what I’m talkin’ about,” Sam backs off, raising his palms in surrender. “That leaves just you, Cap. Anyone we should know about?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Didn’t we talk about it already?” Sharon asks without thinking, then freezes, looking at Sam. He keeps his expression neutral, turning to look at Peggy, who gives them both a sharp look. 

Steve arches his eyebrow. “Somethin’ I should know about?” He looks at all his friends. He knows what, or rather _who_ , they mean but he still wants them to say it. 

Peggy takes it on herself. “Look, Steve. So, we’ve been talking--“ 

“Don’t get mad or anything, it’s nothing really, just a thought,” Sharon says quickly, shrugging, then letting Peggy continue. 

“You seem to be talking a lot about Bucky lately,” Peggy states, looking him straight in the eye. 

“Okay?” Steve holds her gaze, wanting to hear what they have to say. 

“And so we’ve been thinkin’, y’know, about maybe you likin’ the guy?” Sam asks, scratching his chin. “In your way, of course.” 

“Like, don’t get us wrong Steve, but your hatred for him at first seemed just so weird, and now you’re kinda friends and, umm, well, we just thought that maybe that’s why,” Sharon says on one breath, then quickly inhales, looking down. 

Steve stays silent for a minute. He knows what they’re talking about and he’d be lying if he said the thought has never crossed his mind. He wants to deny, say they’re _just_ friends and nothing more, but he can’t really lie to himself anymore. 

The thought has been coming to him ever since Bucky saved his ass. At first Steve just found the brunette captivating and blamed his sudden interest on being tired and beaten. Then he started catching himself looking at Bucky, discovering every detail in his behavior or appearance, like the way he'd bite his lower lip when he's insecure, or the small bump on his right ear. They were texting more and more, and Steve found himself enjoying talking to the guy, checking his phone more and waiting for his reply. 

When he realized he might like _like_ Bucky, Steve was terrified. He was sitting in his room, sketching for his classes, when the brunette sent him a link to a song. Steve dropped his pencil in an instant and put the song on, a smile stretching his lips when the first note started. It was “ _Only in My Dreams_ ” by The Marias. Bucky must've remembered Steve talking about one of their songs and checked the album. Steve lied down on his bed texting back “ **like it?** ” and the reply came almost immediately: “ **love it**.” He bit down on his lower lip, to keep the smile from spreading, and wanted to reply, when the thought came and he froze. He liked Bucky, he was _into_ Bucky. The way the brunette smiles, laughs, scratches his neck when he's self-conscious. The way he talks about his studies, and how engrossed he is in the subject. Of course Steve can’t deny Bucky’s handsome, but he’s way more into his personality, how he manages to bring the best out of people, and has that easygoing aura around himself. 

So, Steve looks down and lets out a quiet breath. “Okay,” he mumbles, fiddling with his cup. 

“Okay?” Peggy repeats, arching an eyebrow at him. 

“ _Okay_ , as in, you may be right,” he slumps his shoulders, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Uh, I’m sorry, are you Steve Rogers? The stubborn asshole who’d never admit someone else was right?” Sam blinks at him, a smile playing on his lips. 

“Shut your mouth Wilson, you’re gonna spook him!” Sharon hisses, her lips stretching in a smile. 

“Fuck you all,” Steve laughs, then sighs. “I may like him. But I don’t have any feelings for him, so don’t get ahead of yourselves,” he points his finger at Sam, who raises his palms at surrender. 

“Yes sir, captain sir!” Sam mocks a salute and Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, will you stop with that captain bullshit already, it was _one_ time!” Steve groans. 

“One was enough,” Sam laughs, giving Steve a friendly pat on his shoulder. 

“Can we please get back to the topic?” Sharon rolls her eyes to which Sam reacts with sticking his tongue at her. “Steve!” She leans on the table, her hands grabbing his palm. “Tell us!” Her eyes sparkle with excitement, and Steve thanks whoever is up there for his friends. 

“I ahh... There isn’t much to say, really. We’ve been talking more after he saved my ass and came to my place. That’s when I first realized that he’s, y’know… he’s such an amazing person. Like, hell, he’s funny and just so smart and he’s just… I--I dunno, we kinda clicked, I guess,” Steve talks with his hands, then looks down, slightly embarrassed. “He’s gonna model for me,” Steve mumbles, feeling his cheeks getting pink. 

“Model as in…” Peggy drifts off, a tiny smirk on her lips. 

“That nude painting, yeah,” Steve looks up, then groans seeing the grins his friends are giving him. 

“Dude!” Sam beams, clasping Steve on his back. 

“How did you even ask?” Sharon chuckles, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Okay, whatever you’re thinking about? Gross,” Steve laughs, pointing a finger at her, as she rolls her eyes. “Besides, I didn’t. He offered,” Steve shrugs. 

“And Bucky, the knight in the shinin’ armor he is, just couldn’t not jump on the opportunity,” Sam shakes his head, laughing loudly. 

“Oh jesus,” Steve drags a hand down his face, feeling hairs ears getting hot. “He’s probably not even bi, get your head outta your ass, Wilson,” he gets an elbow to his ribs for that. 

“Oh, he is gay, alright,” Peggy says without missing a bit, her lips stretching into an amused smirk seeing Steve’s are widen. 

“Sorry, umm, what?!” Sharon exclaimes, blinking at her cousin. 

“Remember pride month last year?” They all nod, buzzing with excitement, and she smiles, throwing her hair back. “Well, our department had this ‘pride day’ when we were encouraged to show our support and wear flags and pins and all that. They were giving out pins with different flags to anyone who wanted one, and I was taking mine right after Bucky. He’d chosen a rainbow one and one that said ‘#GAYAF’,” Peggy leans back on her chair, looking at everyone else, satisfied. 

“Okay, that doesn’t mean nothin’,” Steve points out, not wanting to jump to any conclusions. 

“‘Sides, how come it’s the first time we’re hearing it?” Sam arches his eyebrows. 

“Look, I wasn’t saying anything because I figured it’s none of my business. He’s out but I guess none of you cared before,” Peggy shrugs, her expression blank. 

“But there wasn’t even any picture!” Sharon exclaims, looking at her cousin still confused. 

“That was a safe space so we weren’t taking any as to not out anyone,” Peggy rolls her eyes like the answer was obvious enough. “He’s out though, don’t worry,” She adds, seeing Steve’s furrowed brows. 

“How do you know?” Steve asks, not quite comfortable with what she told them. 

“The same way I know about you, Rogers. We’ve had projects together and it came up, he was never hiding it. He’s just not announcing it to everyone he meets. Do you really think I’d told you if I knew he wasn’t out?” She asks, her voice slightly hurt. 

Steve blinks, then shakes his head. “No, ‘course not, sorry. It’s just new, ‘s all,” he offers her a small, apologetic smile and she nods in return. 

“So,” Sharon clasps her hands. “What are we gonna do about it?” 

“About what exactly?” Steve asks, even though he knows the answer. 

“You and Bucky, obviously. You’re interested, he’s gay _and_ interested, I can already smell the romance.” 

“Okay, first of all, we don’t know if he’s interested,” Steve gets an unimpressed look from all three of his friends, so he just shakes his head and continues. “And second, he currently dropped from the face of the Earth so,” he sighs, checking his phone once again. Still no text from Bucky. 

“What did I tell you, man? We’ll start worrying on Monday. Right now, we need a Plan with capital 'P,"” Sam nudges Steve’s shoulder to get his attention. “I’m already thinking about your couple name.” 

“Buckrogers!” Sharon chimes in, which makes Steve groan. 

“Please don’t,” Steve whines, dragging a hand down his face. 

“Stevebucky sure has a nice ring to it,” Sam smirks, as both Peggy and Sharon start chuckling. 

“I hate you,” Steve mumbles, hiding his face in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> penny for y'alls thoughts


	8. week eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a couple announcements first: 
> 
> this is the last chapter this year. I have kinda bad, traumatic memories with christmas, new year's eve and this time in general, so I couldn't really write about it, and decided to skip it altogether. next chapter will be up on january 4th, so see y'all in 2019! 
> 
> second, I have no idea how painting actually works, so let's just assume steve's doing it right. if any of you have any suggestions as to what should be different, hmu and I'll make some changes. also, apparently y'all americans have your semester breaks and exam sessions timed differently, which I realized too late, so let's pretend it works the way it does here
> 
> third, I still haven't written the last chapter (whoops) so if you have any prompts or would love to see something happening, just tell me and I'll try my best. also, just realized the total number of chapters will be lower than 15, but I can't do math so I'll change it later on
> 
> and lastly, if you want, you're welcome to hmu on tumblr or twitter, I'd love to talk about these two oblivious idiots 
> 
> (plus, someone wanted to know why clint is a human disaster, so there's your answer, hope it's good)

The second to last Friday before Christmas break rolls around with still no news from Bucky. Steve’s seated in class, Ms. Santiago explaining yet another intricacy of the tense they’re working on. He can’t focus though; Steve’s thinking about Bucky, about where he is and why he hasn’t texted yet. Natasha’s not is class, either, so he can’t ask her, which only makes Steve more anxious. Technically, he knows Bucky’s a grown man and he’s probably doing something important, but that still doesn’t make his mind quiet. He can’t help but wonder if anything happened, if Bucky’s okay. 

Steve keeps looking longingly to the left, where both Bucky and Natasha’s seats are empty. Ms. Santiago asks him a question from time to time, but she more or less leaves him to his thoughts, only arching an eyebrow every once in a while when he fails to tell the right answer. 

Steve sighs and takes out his sketchbook, deciding that he probably won’t be able to do anything productive today. He lets his mind wander, doodling the whole time. When the teacher finally finishes the lesson, Steve finds himself with a few sketches of Bucky: his face, his hands, his piercing eyes. Steve closes his sketchbook and packs his things, leaving the classroom after everyone else. He sends Ms. Santiago a weak, apologetic smile when the teacher gives him a look and gets out of the room. Sharon’s waiting for him just outside, her eyes never leaving the doors. 

“They’re not here,” Steve says, knowing she’s hoping to see Natasha. 

“Both of them?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes, not missing the disappointment on Sharon’s face. 

“Oh,” her shoulders sag as she looks down. “Still no word from him?” 

“Nope,” Steve says harshly, then winces. “Sorry, I’m just--” 

“I know,” she sends him a quick smile, then they both turn to leave. “I’m worried too, y’know. But I’m sure he’s fine, Steve.” 

“It’s probably nothin’, I know. I just miss talkin’ to him, ‘s all,” Steve admits quietly, wrapping his scarf around his neck. 

“I know you do.” 

*

It’s Sunday evening and Steve’s seated in his bedroom, the window open to let the cold, December air in. He’s spent the entire day studying Spanish and perfecting his human body sketches. There’s a week left till Christmas break and after the holidays, he’ll have two weeks to turn in his painting. Steve knows it’s a lot of time but he can’t help but start getting anxious about his work. He knows Bucky will be a great model, Steve just has to put him on canvas the right way. Right now, he’s lacking any inspiration, not to mention Bucky is still unreachable. Steve wants to make sure he’ll be able to do the painting in a short amount of time and for that he needs his skills to be better. 

There’s a soft knock on his bedroom doors and Sarah comes in, carrying a plate in her hand. 

“Cinnamon rolls,” she explains, seeing Steve's raised eyebrow. She puts the plate on the desk near his books and places her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Don’t stay up late, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, the corners of his mouth going up slightly. “Thanks, Ma.” 

Sarah squeezes his shoulder once again and leaves the room, leaving Steve to his books. He sighs, taking his glasses off and putting his face in his hands. He’s tired, having recreated almost every sketch from his notebook, and yet he doesn’t feel any better at this. Steve takes a long deep breath and closes his books, putting them aside to pack later. He reaches for the plate with the roll and takes a bite, his eyes closing slightly as the cinnamon hits his taste buds. It’s amazing and he could eat only this for the rest of his life. Steve takes another mouthful, moaning quietly at how good it is and licks the cinnamon off his lips. He finishes the roll in one go, then stands up and goes to his drawer. He fishes out an old stretched out tee and a pair of fresh boxers, and goes to the bathroom, leaving his hearing aid on the nightstand. 

Steve takes a quick shower, brushes his teeth and relieves himself, then goes back to his bedroom and closes the doors quietly. He closes the window, too, not wanting to catch a cold, and crawls into bed. He flicks on the night lamp and takes his sketchbook from underneath the pillow. He turns the pages till he finds a blank one and lets his mind go blank as he sketches. 

He comes out of his zone after having filled three pages with no one other than Bucky. He drew the brunette sipping coffee from a Starbucks cup, sitting hunched over his books with his hair in a loose bun, the end of his pencil tapping his lower lip, and a simple portrait, the man staring at Steve straight from the page. 

Steve sighs, his finger slowly tracing the lines of the pencil. It’s been a week with no news from Bucky and he feels, well, resigned. He tried texting the brunette, as well as calling him, but to no avail. Steve’s worried about him, of course he is, the image of Bucky getting pale still vivid in his head. But, there’s not much Steve can do, so he has to just sit and wait. 

He hides his sketchbook and takes his glasses of, turning off the night lamp. Steve pulls the covers all the way to his cheeks and closes his eyes, trying to think of anything other than soft brown curls and pale blue eyes.

*

Steve wakes up sometime during the night, struggling to take a breath. He clears his throat, which gets him into a coughing fit, and sits up trying to take calming breaths. He reaches to his nightstand to grab an inhaler and takes two puffs, breathing deeply. Steve curses himself for leaving the window open for too long as he reaches for his glasses and stands up, then pads down to the kitchen quietly. He pours himself a glass of water and downs it in one go, swallowing the medicine he needs, then refills it and goes back to his bedroom. Leaving the glass on the nightstand, he crawls back under the covers and reaches for his phone. It’s 3:30 in the morning and he has unread texts. As he opens the app, his heart lurches. 

**Bucky Barnes** : i’m so sorry 

**Bucky Barnes** : i dont even know how to explain 

**Bucky Barnes** def not in a text 

**Bucky Barnes** : im sorry if i woke u up 

**Bucky Barnes** : guess i didnt bc ur not replying 

**Bucky Barnes** : or maybe ure just mad 

**Bucky Barnes** : anyways i’ll be at ur place thursday @ 9 that ok? 

**Bucky Barnes** : i really am sorry steve 

Steve blinks, his thumbs hovering over the screen. The texts were sent two hours ago, so he’s guessing Bucky’s asleep now. He can’t help but feel relieved that the man’s reached out after such a long silence. Steve lets out a breath he didn’t realized he was holding and drags a hand down his face. He has so many questions, he doesn’t even know where to begin. He chooses to leave his worries and feelings aside for now, figuring his fussing is not what Bucky needs right now. 

**Steve Rogers** : you didnt wake me up buck 

**Steve Rogers** : are you okay? 

He types **‘i missed you’** but quickly deletes it. Then, **‘i was worried about you’** but deletes that too. Steve licks his lips, swallowing nervously, then finally decides it can wait. It can all wait as long as Bucky’s safe and sound. 

**Steve Rogers** : 9 works for me 

*

It’s Thursday and Steve’s getting more anxious with every minute that passes. He woke up early to tidy his room a little bit and put all of the supplies he’ll need in the living room. He’s got an easel with a canvas waiting for him near the window, as well as a chair for Bucky to sit on and a set of his best pencils, brushes and paints. He’s standing near the window, looking out at the street beneath him, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his white tee, when the knock comes. Steve runs a hand through his hair nervously as he mumbles “here it goes” under his breath and goes to open the doors. 

“Bucky,” Steve breathes as he sees the brunette standing on the other side. He can’t help feeling relieved, when Bucky shoots him a small smile, waving his right hand shyly as a way of a greeting. 

Steve steps aside, letting the other man come in, then closes the doors behind the both of them. Bucky quickly toes off his winter boots and takes off his grey scarf and a black coat. He’s dressed in a pair of black joggers and a dark grey henley. They stand in the hallway, looking at each other, and Steve takes a second to really look at Bucky. His hair is in a messy bun at the top of his head, but a couple of strings escaped and frame his face. Steve can’t help but notice that the brunette looks different; he’s pale and there are dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Bucky’s eyes lack the usual spark, the icy blue of his pupils seems dim. He’s cheeks are a bit hollow and there’s at least a week worth of stubble on his chin. He looks like he hasn’t eaten or slept in a couple of days and Steve furrows his brows. He’s worried about Bucky, of course he is, but there are boundaries he simply cannot cross yet. Steve doesn’t even have a chance to ask Bucky anything, as the brunette shakes his head slightly and lets out a breath, then reaches out and gives Steve a hug. His arms cradle the blonde and he puts his head gently on Steve’s shoulder, taking a shaky breath. Steve freezes for a moment, not knowing what to do as his mind is racing, but he quickly pulls himself together and puts his arms around Bucky, squeezing. 

“I missed you,” Bucky mumbles pulling out and looking anywhere but Steve. His cheeks are tinted pink and Steve wonders if he’d catch that if Bucky wasn’t as pale as he is right now. 

“Me too,” Steve breathes, being painfully aware how much of an understatement that is. Bucky’s been on his mind almost all the time this past week and a half. He’s been worrying sick about the brunette and was ready to ask Natasha if she knew anything, were she in their Spanish class the other week. 

“So, where do you want me?” Bucky asks, wiggling his eyebrows, his easy-going persona making a comeback. 

Steve blinks. “I--What?” He draws his eyebrows, lost. 

“Y’know, for the painting?” The brunette says, less confident this time. 

“Oh! I, uhh…” Steve scratches his neck, motioning his head to the living room. “Over there, I guess,” he clears his throat, then leads the way. So, they’re not talking about why Bucky was gone. Okay. Cool. _Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool._ Not like Steve cared anyway. 

“So do I undress now or…?” Bucky comes into the room and looks around. He goes to stand by the chair and hooks his thumb into a loop on his pants, winking at Steve. 

“Well, umm, I mean you can, but ima just do a rough sketch now so you don’t hafta yet,” Steve stands near his easel and takes a couple of pencils. 

So they’re obviously not talking about Bucky disappearing for a week and a half. Which, okay, he gets why Bucky would not want to jump into right away. But, Steve thought they were friends and aren’t friends supposed to talk about one of them going under the face of the Earth for so long? With not one word whatsoever? Steve bites his lower lip nervously as he waits for Bucky to sit comfortably in the chair. He knows he’s not entitled to Bucky’s private life, and the brunette doesn’t have to share every single detail with him, but any kind of explanation would be fine. And what about these texts, anyway? Bucky’s said he’s sorry and he doesn’t know how to explain but Steve didn’t think that’d mean not mentioning the situation at all. 

He’s not mad at Bucky, not per se; he’s more mad at himself. For believing that the brunette actually cared about him, trusted him. He’s mad at himself for starting to fall for Bucky as the man clearly doesn’t feel the same. He’s mad that he’s spent all this time worrying about Bucky and yet he doesn’t get a word of explanation. 

Steve sighs. He can’t let his emotions get the better of him, not right now. He knows he’s overreacting; they’re friends at best and nothing more. It doesn’t matter if Steve’s feeling something for the guy, what Bucky obviously needs right now is a friend. Someone he can rely on. Someone who won’t expect him to start a conversation he’s not ready to have yet. Steve can do that. He can put everything aside for now and focus on the other man. 

“Hey, Stevie?” Bucky says nonchalantly, cocking his eyebrow, and Steve feels a blush spreading on his face. 

“Yeah?” His voice comes out soft and hopeful and Steve curses his stupid emotions in his head. 

“Draw me like one of your French girls,” Bucky says, his lips curling into a smirk. Steve groans, the tips of ears turning pink, as his stomach does a flip. 

They sit in silence, the only sound being a playlist playing from Steve’s phone, as he focuses on his drawing. He does a light sketch on the canvas, the lines of his pencils barely visible. He chooses to put the focus on Bucky’s right side, the one closer to the window, as that’s the only source of light on his work. Steve sketches Bucky sitting in the chair comfortably, his right arm on the armrest, the left one resting in his lap. His left leg is bend, the right one spread in front of him. His hair’s in a loose bun, many strings escaping and framing his face. The man looks out the window, his expression calm but also a bit tired. The room behind him is only a background. Steve draws it simplistically, just shapes of a couch and his desk. He shades it a bit to put more focus on the man in the center.

Once he’s done with the sketch, he put his pencils down and clears his throat, feeling a slight blush spreading on his cheeks. He’s not attracted to Bucky--not sexually anyway--but he’s still nervous about seeing him naked. 

“So, umm…” Steve starts, cursing himself in his mind. _Just don’t make it weird._

“You done?” Bucky asks, a curious smile on his lips. 

“With the sketch, yeah,” Steve nods, swallowing down hard. “So if you could, uh…” he starts, looking anywhere but Bucky. So much about not making it weird. 

“Undress?” Bucky smirks. 

“Well, yes,” Steve looks down, as red as a beet. 

“Jeez, Stevie, buy a guy a dinner first,” Bucky laughs, pulling the henley over his head. He stands up and folds it on the chair, then gets rid of his joggers and socks and folds them too. He goes over to the couch to put it down and strips from his black boxers. He sits back in the chair, taking the same position as before. “Ready when you are,” Bucky goes for a light tone, but Steve can hear the nervousness beneath it. 

“Okay,” the blonde breathes and lifts his eyes. 

He immediately regrets his decision to paint Bucky. The guy’s physique is breathtaking and Steve honest to God forgets how to breathe. Bucky’s ripped and Steve feels his throat go dry at the sight of his muscles. The brunette’s six-pack is well defined and the muscles on his arms look like he could crush Steve’s scull with his bare hands. His clavicles draw Steve’s attention and his fingers itch to sketch them. He could do an entire painting of Bucky’s shoulders alone. His legs are just as built as the rest of his body and, if Steve’s being honest, he’d let Bucky snap his neck with those tights. 

Steve gulps as the thought comes to him. It’s the first time, for as long as he can remember, when he felt any kind of sexual attraction towards somebody. Sure, he still wouldn’t jump into bed with Bucky, but he can’t deny the guy looks good. _Really good._

Steve shakes his head slightly, stopping that train of thoughts, and picks up his brush and an palette. He mixes the paints and gets to work. He knows he won’t finish the painting in one sitting, but he wants to make the best of it while they still have some time left. He zones out, his mind going blind as he strokes the canvas and changes his brushes. He paints only a silhouette of Bucky, choosing to focus on the background first.

He’s mostly satisfied with the way the background is coming together when he gets pulled out of his thoughts as his stomach rumbles. Steve blinks, coming back to himself, and looks at Bucky who’s smiling at him. 

“Hungry?” The brunette asks, putting a strand of his hair behind his ears. 

“Kinda,” Steve admits, popping his spine. He feels tired and his back hurts from standing still for so long. “What time is it?” He puts the pallete down and takes of his glasses, rubbing his eyes. 

“A bit after 12.” 

“Oh my God,” Steve groans, then puts his glasses back on. “I’m sorry. Wanna take a break?” 

“Hell yeah,” Bucky stands up, stretching his legs. “Lemme put something on first.” 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Steve nods, his cheeks getting hot again. _Jesus._ “I’ll just, uhh…” he nods towards the kitchen door to his right and flees the room. 

Steve puts on the coffee pot and pours water to two glasses. He goes to the oven and pulls out a tray of vanilla cookies. His Ma knew Bucky was coming over and she insisted they had something sweet to eat ‘for this boy who helped you Steve, don’t be ridiculous it’s the least I can do!’ Steve’s groaned then, but now he’s glad and makes a mental note to thank Sarah later. He puts them on a plate and places on the kitchen island next to the glasses. He goes to stand by the coffee machine and leans against the counter, taking a deep breath. He’s dying to ask Bucky what happened and if he’s okay, but he isn’t sure they’re there yet. They’ve been texting for a while now but he knows it might have been personal and he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries. Besides, he hopes that if Bucky wanted to talk, he’d do that. Feelings or not, Steve has to respect Bucky’s privacy even if the mere thought of the brunette getting hurt pains him. 

“I think ‘s ready,” Bucky says behind Steve and the blonde jumps, startled. 

“Jesus!” Steve breathes, calming himself down. 

“Bucky’s fine, thanks,” the man deadpans as he gently pushes Steve aside and takes the coffee pot out. He pours the liquid into two cups and carries them to the kitchen island, then flops down on one of the stools. Steve glares at him, but sits down too. “So, can I see it?” 

“See what?” Steve blinks, taking a sip of water. 

“The painting, Stevie,” Bucky rolls his eyes playfully, then takes a cookie and bites into it. “Oh my God, ‘s amazin’,” he moans with his mouth full, his eyelids half closed. 

“I’ll make sure to pass it on,” Steve chuckles, taking one for himself.

“Your mom’s amazin’,” Bucky says sincerely after swallowing down. “Speakin’ of, where is she?” 

“At work. Morning shift,” Steve shrugs, taking a tentative sip of his coffee, then hissing after burning his tongue. Again. 

“I gotta meet her,” the brunette mumbles around another mouthful and Steve smiles. 

“Sure,” Steve says. 

“For real, though,” Bucky perks up, taking a cup in his hands. “I'm leavin’ again tomorrow but hell, I’ll come meet her the second I’m back,” he takes a sip as Steve frowns. 

“Oh, uhh…” he doesn’t wanna pry, but… “Where’re you goin’?” 

“Indiana,” Bucky shrugs. 

“Indiana?” Steve frowns even harder. 

“Well, yeah. My parents live there, remember?” He smiles, but Steve can see it’s forced and he bites his lip. 

“No, of course, I know, but just… Why now?” Steve curses himself yet again. It’s none of your business, Rogers. But why now, a week before Christmas break? Is that where he was all this time? 

Bucky chews his cookie slowly, his eyebrows drawn slightly. Steve can see he’s thinking about what to say, and he mentally kicks himself for asking the brunette when he’s obviously not comfortable with the subject. 

“You don’t hafta--” Steve starts, but Bucky interrupts him. 

“Just… family stuff, y’know?” The brunette looks up and his eyes are exhausted. “I’m only back to hand in some papers, do some paperwork. Figured we could get started on that painting of your’s while I’m there. Don’t wanna make you miss the deadline.” 

Steve blinks, taken aback. “I--I, uhh…” he has no idea what to say, so he does the first thing that comes to his head and reaches out to squeeze Bucky’s hand. “Thank you.” 

Bucky looks down at their hands, a small smile playing on his lips. He squeezes back, looking up, and Steve’s yet again reminded of how beautiful his eyes are, shadowed by his eyelashes. Bucky swallows down, biting on his lower lip and taking his hand back. Steve clears his throat, trying to contain the overwhelming feeling of warmth and fiddles with his cup. 

“So,” Bucky starts, taking another cookie. “How was Spanish last week?” 

*

By the time Steve and Bucky finished the cookies, talking about what Bucky’s missed at the university, Steve had to start getting ready for his classes. He cleaned the plate and the mugs while the brunette put the rest of his clothing on. Steve left the easel and all his painting equipment in the living room, covering it first, wanting to work on his painting when he’ll be back from classes. He could still get some work done even without Bucky present, now that he had the sketch and most of the background. 

Steve prepared his bag earlier, so now he just puts his winter outwear on and is ready to go. Bucky gets dressed as well and they leave the small apartment together, heading down the staircase. They keep quiet, as the walls in the building are thin, and Steve’s had enough of his neighbors noisiness. When they’re near the entry doors Bucky takes two quick steps and opens the doors for Steve, giving him a small smile. 

“Thanks,” Steve says quietly, his breath turning into a fog in the cold air. Bucky shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets. “Where’re you headed?” Steve asks, not wanting to part with the brunette just yet. 

“Nat’s,” Bucky nods his head to the opposite direction and Steve curses in his head. “Left some papers at her place.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Steve nods, willing his expression to stay neutral. He missed Bucky and the thought of not seeing the man for another three weeks pains him more than it should. He lets himself stare at the brunette for a while longer, trying to commit to his memory as much as he can. Sure, it won’t help with the lack of actual conversation but at least he’ll be able to draw him. 

Bucky must’ve seen something in Steve’s gaze, because he drops his eyes worrying his lower lip between his teeth, and then suddenly reaches out and envelopes the blonde in his arms. His right hand clutches at Steve’s jacket, his left resting on the small of Steve’s back. The blonde freezes up at first, but quickly embraces Bucky too, his head resting on the taller man’s shoulder. He takes a deep breath, smelling soap and something so clearly _Bucky_ he feels his heart break a little. He doesn’t want to let go, feeling safe and warm in Bucky’s arms but he knows he can’t show his emotions. Not yet, Steve reminds himself, and slowly lets go. Bucky pulls back, too, keeping his right hand on Steve’s arm and squeezing gently. 

“I’ll text you, yeah?” The brunette asks, his pink cheeks standing out against the bags under his eyes and his pale skin. 

Steve only manages a weak nod, his throat suddenly closed up. Bucky sends him one last smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and turns around, walking slowly away from Steve. The blonde watches him go all the way down the street and round the corner, missing him already. 

*

Steve is just packing his books, when his phone vibrates in his back pocket. He furrows his brows, reaching for the device, his heart skipping a bit as he reads. 

**Bucky Barnes** : got plans for tonight? 

Steve hums. He wanted to work on the painting a little bit more, plus their Spanish class starts at 9:30am the next day. 

However, it’s _Bucky_. Steve knew the answer as soon as he read the message. 

**Steve Rogers** : not really 

The reply comes instantly. 

**Bucky Barnes** : nat asks if you wanna drop by 

**Bucky Barnes** : clints here 

**Bucky Barnes** : bout to order pizza

Steve bites down on his lip. He should really get some sleep before tomorrow--he’s closing the shop again. He should work on the painting and probably revise for Spanish. He should do a lot of things. 

**Steve Rogers** : what’s the address?

*

It takes Steve less than half an hour to arrive at Natasha’s doors. His back is killing him from the weight of his bag on one shoulder, his other hand occupied with a four pack of ginger ale—his Ma would probably approve of him being a good guest. Which reminds him, Sarah is probably waiting for him to come back from class. Steve sighs, as he raises his hand and knocks on the doors. He hears a loud yelp from the inside, followed by laughter, and the doors open to reveal Natasha, with a smug smile on her face. 

“Hi there, Rogers,” she moves to the side, letting him inside. 

“Thanks for the invite,” Steve smiles, giving her the ginger ale. 

Natasha lifts an eyebrow, curious. “Why thanking me?” 

Steve frowns, unzipping his jacket and pulling off his beanie. “Bucky said—“

“He’s a manipulative liar, if you haven’t noticed,” she shakes her head, amused, at Steve’s confused expression. “But I do want you here, too, so come on in.” 

“I—thanks?” Steve pulls off his jacket, his eyes following Natasha into the open kitchen. He unlaces his boots and comes further inside, looking around. The place is small, but cosy. The kitchen is further down the hall, joined with the living room. On the right is a small hallway, a set of doors on both sides. 

Steve follows Natasha, but instead of the kitchen goes towards the living room. “Hi,” he says to both Bucky and Clint, the former sprawled on the couch, and the latter sitting on the floor, his back against an armchair. Clint’s rubbing his head, a band-aid on his hand, while Bucky is shaking his head, a smile on his face. 

“You made it,” Bucky looks at Steve, rubbing at the back of his neck. He’s dressed just as he was before, though his hair is now in a neat braid, falling on his right shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, smiling too. It’s good to see Bucky relaxed, his eyes no longer dim and haunted. He looks at ease, and Steve’s glad both Natasha and Clint are there for him. 

Clint clears his throat loudly. 

“Don’t mind him,” Bucky says carelessly, waving his hand towards the blonde on the floor. 

“Fuck you too, Barnes,” Clint grumbles, no heat behind his words though, and Steve comes closer. 

“Steve Rogers,” he introduces himself, sticking his hand out. 

“Trust me, I know,” Clint rolls his eyes, then looks pointedly at Bucky, who promptly flips him off. Bucky’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink, though, and Steve wonders what exactly Clint knows. 

“What happened?” Steve asks, indicating the band-aid on the man’s hand. 

“Oh, uh, I was cutting pizza,” Clint shrugs, still rubbing a spot on his forehead. 

“You--what?” Steve blinks, not knowing how the two things are even connected.

Clint sighs, shrugging yet again. “I was cutting pizza, watching some dumb movie, and didn’t look where the knife was going until it was to late,” he explains, like it was the most common thing on Earth. 

Steve gapes, looking between Clint and Bucky, then snorts. “Sorry, sorry--” he goes to explain himself, but Clint just shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively. 

“Worst things happened,” the guy smiles, and this time it’s Bucky who laughs.

Steve wants to ask what happened to Clint’s head, too; however, he doesn’t have a chance--Natasha joins them in the room and gives Steve a bottle of ginger ale. He nods at her, as she grabs a bottle of beer from the coffee table and flops on the armchair behind Clint, throwing her legs over the arm. Steve looks around, looking for a place to sit, when Bucky sits up, leaving a space on the couch near him. Steve sends him a smile, and sits down, curling his legs underneath himself. 

“So…” Natasha drifts off, looking between Steve and Bucky. The brunette groans, leaning his head back, and Steve lifts his eyebrow in anticipation. “How’s your painting going?” 

“Oh my god,” Steve mumbles, at the same time as Bucky breathes “I hate you.” 

“What? It’s a genuine question, Steve, I’d love to see your art,” she states matter-of-factly, taking a swing from the bottle. 

“You’d love to see naked Bucky,” Clint points out, leaning his head back to rest it against the armchair, looking at Natasha from below. 

“Speak for yourself,” she says without missing a bit, and Clint just shrugs. 

“I mean…” 

“Okay, shut up,” Bucky points a finger at them, his cheeks full on red now. 

“What? There’s many guys who looks worse than you—“ 

“Barton I swear to god,” Bucky shakes his head, his lips curling. 

“If you two need a room—“

“Natasha for Christ’s sake,” Bucky honest to god whines, and Steve chuckles quietly, taking a sip of his drink. 

“I’m just saying…” Nat throws back her hair, shrugging one arm.

“He’s not interested Nat,” Clint pouts, then turns to looks at Bucky. “But you do have a thing for blo—“

He doesn’t finish, as Bucky throws a pillow at him. However, he misses terribly and the pillow hits a beer bottle on the coffee table, that spills all over Clint’s legs. “Aww, beer,” the guy mumbles, picking the bottle up and downing the remains. 

“Clint!” Bucky laughs, as Natasha smacks the man upside the head. “Fucking gross!” 

Steve shakes his head as Clint just shrugs and puts the bottle back on the table. 

“At least clean it,” Natasha nudges Clint with her knee, her eyebrows raised. 

“But it wasn’t me!” The guy whines, looking between Bucky and Natasha. 

“I don’t care, it’s _on_ you!” 

“I’m gonna get back at ya,” Clint points an accusatory finger at Bucky, standing up. 

“Try, Barton, try,” Bucky flips him off, as Clint takes the bottle from the coffee table and goes to the kitchen. He comes back with wet wipes and cleans both the table and the floor. 

“Nat, I need pants,” Clint gestures at his soaked jeans, pouting. She just motions for him to go, and he shrugs, disappearing down the hallway. 

“I’m friends with goddamn idiots,” Natasha mumbles, taking a long swing of her drink. “Steve, how would you feel about a new best friend?” She asks, smiling and fluttering her eyelashes. 

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Well—“

“Hey, none of that,” Bucky narrows his eyes at him, then at Natasha. “I ain’t sharin’.”

Steve bites down a smile, his heart beating loudly in his chest. “Gee, Buck, I was gonna say I don’t need a new one, but good to know we’re on the same page,” he jokes, though he can tell his blush is betraying him. 

“Punk,” Bucky bites back, nudging Steve’s knee with his own. 

As Steve says “jerk,” there’s a loud bang in Natasha’s bedroom, followed by even a louder curse. 

“What did he do now?” Bucky mumbles, rolling his eyes. Natasha groans, just as Clint stumbles into the living room, wearing a pair of her black sweats that are way too tight and way too short, reaching barely below his knees. 

“So, uh, funny story,” Clint says, looking down.

“What?” Natasha says shortly, cocking an eyebrow. 

“How attached were you to that night lamp?” 

“Clint—“

“A new one will be here tomorrow, got it,” he says quickly, opting to sink down on the floor as far away from Natasha as possible. Steve chuckles quietly, as Nat mumbles “I need a goddamn drink” under her nose.

“You sticking with beer?” She asks Bucky, who nods. Clint lifts his head, but one look from Nat makes him look down again. “Thought so,” she lifts herself up in one motion, then goes to the kitchen and opens the fridge. 

At the exact same moment, there’s a knock on the doors. “I’m up, I’m up,” Clint lifts his hands and stands up. Steve sends Bucky a questioning look, to which Bucky explains that it’s Clint’s turn to pay for the pizza. 

“How much do I owe him?” Steve asks, reaching for his wallet. 

“Steve, stop, I asked you here,” Bucky reaches out and circles his fingers around Steve’s wrist, stopping him. 

“I thought it was Nat?” Steve arches his eyebrow, unable to keep a smug smile from his face. 

“Well, I mean, I, uh—“

“Buck,” Steve stops him, licking his lips and smiling softly. “I’m glad you did.” 

Bucky looks up, his fingers still wrapped around Steve’s hand, the corners of his lips lifting up slightly. “I’m glad you came.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, drop a line, please


	9. week eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back! 
> 
> and happy new year!

The first Friday after Christmas break comes quicker than Steve’s expected. 

He spent the holidays with his Ma as usual, the Carter cousins and Sam visiting them once they were back in New York. They had a good time and exchanged presents, Sam updating everyone on new gossips in his family, as they all knew about the Wilson’s drama. Sam has a big family, a lot of uncles and aunts on both his mom and dad's side and, as he says, when they all meet shit always goes down. He’s also officially dating Riley now and Steve can’t remember the last time he saw his friend so happy. 

They spent New Year’s Eve together at Sam’s place, watching the ball drop and drinking cheap champagne. It’s their tradition of many years and Steve wouldn’t change it for anything. He did, however, invite Bucky as the two texted all the time during the break. The guy was still in Indiana, but he FaceTimed Steve right after midnight, and they spent over an hour talking and wishing each other a happy new year. 

As that was their first video conversation over the phone, Steve’s been on cloud nine ever since. That’s why he could barely focus on any class this week and why he comes to his Spanish class as early as he possibly can. Steve enters the empty classroom, not even surprised he’s the first one there, and goes straight to his desk unwrapping his new bright blue scarf from around his neck. He puts his bag on the chair and unzips his winter coat, then takes his notebook and pencils out. He sits down and fishes his sketchbook from his bag as well, not wanting to stare at the door like he’s waiting for someone. Even if he actually is. _So what._ He can’t wait to see Bucky after the long two weeks. Sure, they texted ever since the get together at Nat's, but for Steve it’s not enough. He misses Bucky’s smile, his little laugh, the way he looks down whenever he doesn’t know what to say. He wants to hug Bucky and feel the warmth of his body. 

Steve sighs, shaking his head and picks up his favorite pencil. He doodles in his sketchbook, letting his mind go blank, focusing on the lines in front of him. He jumps, startled, as someone sits on the chair next to him. 

“Hi,” Bucky says, a smirk on his lips. 

“Christ!” Steve hisses, shaking his head. 

“Told ya already Bucky’s just fine,” the brunette laughs quietly seeing Steve’s unimpressed expression. 

“Can you stop creeping up on me?” He runs a hand through his hair, closing his sketchbook with the other one. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Bucky honest to God giggles, and Steve can’t keep a smile from spreading on his face. “Whatcha doin’?” 

“Killin’ time,” Steve shrugs. Only now does he notice a couple of more students in the room, including Natasha, who’s seated in her usual place and is waving at him. He smiles back, nodding his head at her. 

“So, you need me to come by on Thursday?” Bucky asks, his lips curling into a smirk yet again. 

“Yeah, actually. I’ve been meanin’ to ask you,” Steve admits, feeling his cheeks getting pink just at the mere thought of seeing the other man naked again. This time he’ll have to commit Bucky’s body to paper and his palms are already sweating. 

“I guess I’ll see you then,” Bucky smiles, then bites down on his lip. His eyebrows furrow for a split second and if Steve wasn’t paying attention as much as he is, he would’ve missed it. Bucky shakes his head slightly and puts his right hand just above Steve’s knee, squeezing tightly. “I’ve missed you, Stevie,” he stands up abruptly and goes back to his desk, leaving Steve frozen in place, his heart hammering in his chest.

 

* 

Steve startles as the sound of his phone wakes him up. He groans and reaches for it, pressing the answering button without even looking at it, and puts it to his good ear. 

“Lo?” He mumbles, rubbing his eyes. He was dead tired after working the closing shift today and went straight to bed after helping his Ma with a banoffee cake. 

“Did I wake ya?” The voice on the other side giggles and Steve furrows his eyebrows, confused. 

“Who’s this?” He rasps, wincing at the sound of his own voice.

“Bucky, ya punk,” Bucky laughs and Steve can’t help but smile. “‘M sorry, didn’t know you were sleepin’.” 

“‘s fine, long shift,” he says quietly, sitting up a bit. “What’s up?” 

“Oh, uhh… I was wonderin’...” Bucky stays silent for a second and Steve can easily imagine him biting down on his lip and looking down. “You’ve got any plans for tomorrow?” 

“Studying, then probably coffee with my friends, ” Steve answers and immediately wants to punch himself. What if Bucky wanted to go out with him? What if he needed Steve’s help with something and he just dismissed him? Steve curses his sleepy brain and fists his hand in the sheets. 

“Oh, okay--” Bucky starts, but Steve quickly interrupts him. 

“What you got in mind?” 

“Nothin’ really, just wanted to check if you wanna study Spanish together, ‘s all,” he says hesitantly in a small voice and Steve’s wants to punch something, anything, for making Bucky feeling like that.

“That sounds good, Buck,” Steve assures, trying to sound as positive as he possibly can, being half asleep and all that. “I could definitely use that, with midterms comin’ up.” 

“Yeah?” He can hear Bucky perking up and he fist pumps himself for doing at least one thing right today. 

“Yeah. I’ll text you tomorrow?” 

“Okay,” Bucky breaths. “Hey, Stevie?” 

“Mmm?” Steve murmurs, trying hard to stay awake. 

“Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Buck.” 

Steve puts the phone back on his nightstand and goes back to sleep, dreaming of soft smiles and icy blue eyes. 

*

Steve wakes up to Sarah singing softly in the kitchen and the sunshine warming his face through the blinds. He groans and rubs his face, running a hand through his hair. He sits up and pops his spine, then reaches for his glasses and hearing aid. He takes his phone from the nightstand and quickly checks his texts. Sam, Peggy and Sharon, or “Aces” as they like to call themselves, agreed on meeting in their usual spot at four, which gives him a little bit under four hours to study. He sighs, wishing he’d woken up sooner and goes to the kitchen. 

“Mornin’, Ma,” he says, yawning. 

“Well, good morning, leanbh,” she answers, smiling and putting the coffee pot on. “Slept well?” 

“Yeah, actually,” Steve smiles shyly at the dream that is still fresh in his memory. He and Bucky were in Spanish, working on another assignment together. Bucky kept knocking Steve’s knee and was all easy smiles. Steve bites his lower lip as his mind provides him with the picture of steel blue eyes. He’s just about to ask his Ma when she leaves for the shelter when he remembers the phone call he got last night. “Oh, shit,” he says under his breath. 

“Steven!” Sarah gives him a scolding look, even though she’s heard him talk much worse. 

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles and all but runs back to his bedroom. 

Steve snatches his cell from the nightstand where he left it and quickly unlocks it. He opens the text app and types out a message. 

**Steve Rogers** : Bucky! 

**Steve Rogers** : we still on today? 

He bites his lip nervously when he sees the three dots appear, then disappear only to come back again. 

**Bucky Barnes** : Steve! 

**Bucky Barnes** : yea we are 

**Bucky Barnes** : when and where? 

**Steve Rogers** : I was thinking my place? 

**Steve Rogers** : at 6? 

Steve bites down on his lip even harder, thinking maybe inviting Bucky to his place is a bit too much. So, he quickly backtracks. 

**Steve Rogers** : or yknow, a coffee shop 

**Steve Rogers** : whatever works for you really 

**Steve Rogers** : we could go to asgard again

 **Bucky Barnes** : stevie 

**Bucky Barnes** : ur place is just fine 

**Bucky Barnes** : i’ll finally meet the woman who snatched my heart with her baking skills 

Steve lets out a long breath; so it wasn’t too much. _Close call, Rogers._

**Steve Rogers** : she probably won’t be there 

**Bucky Barnes** : and there goes my whole plan 

**Bucky Barnes** : see ya then 

Steve throws himself on the bed, grinning like an idiot. He lets himself enjoy the feeling of overwhelming warmth and excitement, then stands back up and tries to focus on getting through the day, until six that is. 

*

Steve gets home just five minutes before Bucky comes knocking on his door. He’s just put on the coffee pot and took the cookies Sarah’s left for them from the oven. Steve goes to open the doors and is met with Bucky, wearing his black winter coat and a navy blue scarf which only makes him look more pale. His cheeks and nose are red from the cold and his hair is loosely tied in a bun. 

“Hi,” Bucky says, a small smile on his face. 

“Come on in,” Steve ushers him into the room. 

Bucky takes off his outwear, putting his backpack on the floor, and toes off his boots. He follows Steve into the kitchen and sits on one of the stools, rubbing his hands together. 

“Coffee will be in a second,” Steve assures, noticing the man is cold. 

“Thanks, Stevie,” Bucky says softly and Steve has to resist the urge to reach out and envelop the guy in a hug. 

He’s been feeling this need a lot lately and he knows he’s getting in deep. Bucky’s on his mind almost every time, which isn’t really surprising given the fact they text almost all the time. The only exceptions are lectures where none of them is allowed to use their phone, but they still hide it under their desks to send a quick reply. Steve feels like he’s in middle school, or high school for that matter, all over again. The only difference is that he’s not being bullied anymore and has actual friends who are willing to stand up for him should anything happen. 

When he thinks about Bucky, Steve feels like a teenager having his first crush. Every time the man sends him a soft smile Steve’s insides get all mushy and he feels warmth all over his body. He blushes like a little child whenever Bucky compliments him and he can’t seem to get rid the image of ocean blue eyes from his mind. When he lets his mind wander while drawing, he always finds Bucky staring at him from the pages of his sketchbook; that’s why he stopped showing it to other people. The only ones he really admits his crush to are Peggy, Sharon, and Sam and they all find him adorable which, _mind you_ , he definitely is _not_. 

So what, if he wants to take Bucky to art exhibitions to show him all his favorite pieces, and draw the guy with no end. And even if Bucky is the first person on his mind when he wakes up and the last when he goes to sleep, that doesn’t mean he should do something about it. like all of his friends say. He knows damn well the man is way out of his league and he doesn’t want to get his hopes up all for nothing. Plus, he’s happy with the friendship they have now, and he’s definitely not going to destroy it just because he’s got a crush. People have crushes all the time, it’ll pass.

At least that’s what he hopes for. Otherwise… Well, he doesn’t know. He’s not ready to give Bucky up, as little as he has of him, even if that means he’ll end up miserable when the other man finds a person he’ll fall in love with. 

Nope, Steve’s not ready to think about it. Not that there’s much to think about, anyway. 

The sound of the pot brings Steve out of his thoughts. He jumps a little, startled, and goes to pour coffee into two cups, missing Bucky’s soft chuckle. He brings them over to the kitchen island and sits down, Bucky’s eyes never leaving his movements. 

“What?” Steve asks, curiously lifting one of his eyebrows. 

“Nothin’,” Bucky shakes his head slightly and wraps his palms around the warm mug. “Thanks.” 

“Sure,” Steve shrugs, and blows a little on his drink to make it cool faster. “You ready for midterms?”

“Is anyone ever?” The man smiles, but it falls flat. He furrows his eyebrows and looks down, biting his lower lip and Steve can immediately say he’s thinking about something. He decides to give Bucky space and stays silent, looking at his hands. 

“Steve…” Bucky starts, then pauses. He looks up and their lock eyes for a second. That’s when Steve notices his eyes lack the usual playful sparkle. They seem dim, like a fog on a cold winter morning. “I hafta tell you somethin’. Remember when I left to Indiana? When we were in Asgard?” Steve nods, not wanting to interrupt. Is Bucky going to tell him what happened then? Why he was dead silent for almost two weeks? 

“I uh… Shit,” Bucky swears under his breath, then looks down again. He lets his hair loose and starts fiddling with the tie. “I had a sister. Becca,” Steve sucks in a sharp breath at the use of past tense, as Bucky continues. “She was eight years younger than me. She was born when we were in Russia and we moved to Poland when she was only four. She uh… She always had a thing for history, y’know?” He stops and swallows down hard. Steve’s heart breaks, as he can only imagine the kind of pain Bucky must have felt and obviously still feels. 

“Instead of bedtime stories I’d read her my history books and she’d always ask questions about the Egyptians or ancient Greece. I uh, I sucked at history then so… So, I had to study real hard to answer those,” there’s a sad smile on his face and Steve’s hands itch to reach out and squeeze one of Bucky’s. He doesn’t, though. “She was a smart one, a know-it-all. I had to be on top of all my classes and yet she’d ask me something that left me wonderin' how the hell she came up with that kind of question. My parents… They worked real hard, my dad traveling a lot, so it was usually the two of us, doing homework together, cooking, doing projects. She--” His voice breaks at that and he stops, clenching his fists. Steve can’t help himself and reaches out, giving Bucky’s hand a reassuring squeeze. The man opens his hand and squeezes Steve’s just as much. 

“Anyway, my dad’s boss, Pierce, came to Poland with his foster kid, Brock. They were in town for a week, right after I’ve turned eighteen. I did my driver’s licence early so I took the exam on the day of my birthday and passed the first time. Brock wanted to take me out to celebrate, but I kept saying no, I promised Becca we’d go to the movies. My dad was out working and my mom was dead tired after her shift, so me and Becca got into a car and drove by ourselves. We saw Big Hero 6 and I had so much fun, Stevie, I--” he bites down on his lower lip and shakes his head. 

“It was on our way back when it happened. It was just after dark, we were waiting for the street lights. It was an intersection and--and some asshole, as I thought, thought he’ll make it before us. He didn’t. Hit us straight on the passenger doors with so much force we were pushed to the other side and crushed into a tree. Becca died instantly, I almost lost my left arm,” he says the last part in such a whisper Steve can barely hear him. A tear runs down his face and Steve can physically feel his pain. He stands up and comes over to Bucky, holding his hand the whole time, then curls his arm around him, enveloping him in a one sided hug. Bucky stills at first, but quickly puts his arms around Steve and hides his face in the other man’s sweater. 

“I’m so sorry, Bucky, I really am,” Steve whispers, tightening his arms. They stay like that for a while, Bucky breathing erratically, until he pulls back and rubs at his eyes. 

“‘M sorry,” Bucky mumbles, his voice hoarse, not meeting Steve’s eyes. 

“Buck, hey,” the blonde puts his hand on the other man’s arm, making him look up. “Don’t be sorry for how you feel. Ever.” 

Bucky nods, sending him a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He lets out a long, calming breath and continues. 

“Turned out the driver was Brock. He went out to party and was drunk off his ass, knowing his dad could get him out of anything. He was sentenced and went to prison and we moved to the States as soon as I was done with high school. My dad broke any relation he had with his boss and we thought it was the last we heard of them,” Bucky closes his eyes, his fists clenching yet again. “It was until now. It was my dad who called me then. Brock got out of prison. Guess Pierce can get him out of literally everything,” his jaw clenches and Steve shuffles closer to him to let him know he’s there. “I went back to be with my family. I know how hard it is for them. For me,” he whispers, inching closer to Steve until he hugs him again. 

Steve doesn’t know what to feel. He wants to punch someone, something, but at the same time his heart breaks for Bucky. He wouldn’t wish for anyone to go through this and just the thought of Bucky being in so much pain makes him want to scream from frustration. Steve wishes there was something, anything, he could do to make Bucky feel even a little bit better. He knows no words can help him so he just tightens his arms around Bucky, hoping his actions will say what he can’t. They stay in silence, Steve drawing circles with his thumb on the small of Bucky’s back. Neither of them wants to move, to break the embrace. 

Steve’s the first one to pull back. He reaches for a box of tissues that’s near the window and hands it to Bucky, who sends him a grateful smile in return. The brunette blows his nose and gets up, indicating the bathroom. As he leaves, Steve sits down and takes a deep breath. His heart aches for Bucky and there’s only so much he can do. He stares at his cup of coffee, thinking about everything Bucky went through. Steve would probably be devastated and yet Bucky’s there, smiling and making friends left and right. Steve thinks about how strong he is, how he doesn’t give up and just keeps going. Sure, he must have bad moments, but looking at him Steve sees a person full of life and energy. 

Steve’s wondering how blessed he is to have people as strong as both Sara and Bucky in his life, when the man enters the kitchen. He must’ve washed his face as his eyes are not longer puffy and red rimmed. They’re still a bit glassy and Steve yet again wants to hug Bucky like his life depended on it. 

“Bucky,” Steve starts as the brunette sits down. “Thank you.” 

“For what?” He asks confused, taking a sip of his now lukewarm drink. 

“Sharing this with me. I know it wasn’t easy and I appreciate it.” 

“We’re friends, Stevie, you deserve to know,” Bucky says as it’s somehow obvious and Steve wants to punch him or kiss him senseless, he can’t decide. “It feels good. Knowing I can talk to you about this and you won’t treat me differently.” 

“Differently?” 

“With pity." 

“Buck, I’d never--” Steve starts, but is quickly interrupted. 

“I know, Stevie. I know,” Bucky smiles a real smile this time, and Steve stomach jumps. He bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from grinning and looks down. “Now let’s change the subject and get to Spanish.” 

Bucky chuckles quietly, as Steve groans. 

*

Steve lays awake in his bed in the middle of the night. He can’t fall asleep, his thoughts running a mile a minute.

Bucky went home just a couple minutes before Sarah came back and Steve was happy to help her with washing the dirty dishes she brought with her from the shelter, all cakes eaten by those in need. He wanted her to get some rest before helping at their church tomorrow, so he made her tea and promised to clean the apartment himself. 

Steve needed the distraction and now that it’s gone, he can’t stop thinking about Bucky and everything the brunette told him. He thinks he finally understands Bucky more, but, at the same time, is more lost than ever. 

Bucky is just so… different. In school, around other people, he has this captivating persona, he’s always smiling and is friendly towards everyone. Everybody knows him, everybody likes him. He seems so unbothered, like there’s nothing that could bring him down. He’s positive and optimistic and always on top of everything. 

When they’re alone though, Bucky is a totally different person. He’s shy, thoughtful, sometimes he seems more reserved than Steve himself. Of course, more often than not, he jokes around, dropping innuendos even Steve can recognize. Bucky seems so open, but, at the same time, Steve feels like everything he knows about Bucky is just superficial. Bucky’s quick to answer Steve’s questions and talk about himself but their today’s conversation was something they’ve never had before. Steve learned something about Bucky’s past, something probably a few people know. He’s grateful for this, of course he is, but he can’t help the feeling that there’s more to Bucky that meets the eye. 

Bucky almost never elaborates on the details he gives about himself, which only draws Steve closer to him. He wants to know more, he wants to really know Bucky. Sure, Steve feels as if they knew each other for ages, the conversation between them flowing naturally. They can sit in silence and even that doesn’t feel awkward. Steve’s never got so close to anyone in a matter of a few months. Hell, there are people whom he knows a couple years now and they still know less about him than Bucky does. He knows he can tell the brunette everything and he won’t be judged, not to mention his secrets would be safe. He could probably ask Bucky for help to hide a body and the only question asked would be where to meet him. 

That is why Steve finds his crush so exciting and intoxicating, but also scary and terrifying. After Bucky helped him in that alley all those weeks ago, Steve knows he could trust him with his life. He’s never felt this strong, deep connection with anyone, well, except for his friends, but he’s not involved with them romantically. As far as Bucky knows, the both of them are friends too, and Steve hopes it’ll stay like that for as long as possible. He’s not ready to admit his feelings, as he himself isn’t even sure what he feels.

All he knows for sure is that he can’t get enough of Bucky’s smile, his stupid jokes and pale blue eyes. Steve's heart leaps every time he gets a new text from the brunette and he has to bite down hard on his lip to keep the grin from his face. He feels overwhelmed whenever Bucky sends him a soft, barely there smile and looks up at him through his dark eyelashes. Steve feels warmth all over his body every time the brunette hugs him or gives him a squeeze on the shoulder. 

Steve even started to put more effort into the way he looks on Fridays and the days he’s got lectures in the history department. He tries his best not to oversleep and run to class wearing baggy sweaters and jeans in need of washing. Steve even spends an extra few minutes to style his hair, lest it looked messy and fell into his eyes. 

The blonde turns to the other side and takes a deep breath trying to clear his head. He still can’t believe he used to hate Bucky. It seems so childish to him now, knowing Bucky’s reasoning as to why he was helping Steve. After everything the brunette told him, all that trauma with the car accident and his sister’s death, Steve’s mad at himself for not giving Bucky a chance, for acting like a total jerk. He can only imagine how Bucky felt, trying his best in class to have answers to his sister’s questions, only to be ridiculed by a bunch of kids. Steve’s heart breaks yet again, thinking about everything the guy’s been through. Struggling in school, taking care of his little sister, only to lose her because of some idiot who didn’t know not to drink and drive. And now, for the same guy to get off the hook so easy… Steve’s fists curl just at the thought of it. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone; to know it all happened to Bucky, one of the kindest people he knows…

Steve groans, knowing he’s in deep and wishing his heart rate to slow down. 

*

Steve runs a hand through his hair, the other one gripping tightly his palette with paints already on it. It’s Thursday, his and Bucky’s second and last painting session, and the brunette is currently pulling his dark grey henley over his head. Bucky strips from his black joggers and socks, folding them on the couch, then quickly pulls down his black boxers. He puts them on top of his clothes and sits in the chair Steve’s pulled out for him before. Bucky seats himself the exact same way he did before, his left arm resting in his lap, the right one on the armrest; his left leg is bent, the right one spread in front of him. The loose strands of hair escaping from his bun frame his face as he looks out through the window, his expression calm. 

Steve’s already painted the background so now his full focus is on Bucky. He commits the other man on the canvas with as many details as he can. He paints the stubble on Bucky’s chin and his sharp cheekbones. He tries to do a fair job with his muscles and abs without seeming too eager to look at the sculpted body. Steve thanks whatever God there is for being asexual as he paints Bucky’s pubic hair and the outline of his dick, which is enough to get him all flustered. He paints Bucky true to his form, without skipping the ugly, deep, pink scars on his left arm and the left side of his torso. If he spends a little more time painting the curve of Bucky’s lips and his dark eyelashes, no one’s here to judge. 

They sit in silence, the only sound coming from Steve’s phone and his soft strokes on the canvas. After what seems like a while to Steve, he takes a step back to assess his work. Bucky’s in the center of the canvas, the only source of light being the window on his right side. His left side is a little bit more shadowed, but not so much to miss the scars. It’s not something Steve wanted to hide, as for him it’s the prove of how strong the brunette is and how much he’s overcome to be where he is right now. His loose hair frame his face, casting a little bit of shadow on his jaw and neck. The background is a little blurred. but not so much to not distinguish the furniture. Behind Bucky is a couch, a blanket draped over the back. On the left side is Steve’s desk, covered with papers and sketchbooks with a lamp standing on the side. 

Steve wets his lips, nodding slightly. He’ll still have to add a couple of finishing touches, but that’s something he won’t need Bucky for. He lets out a long breath, pushing his glasses up and pinching the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t easy, not in the slightest, but if he’s to be honest, he did a solid job. Steve puts the palette down and clasps his hands over his head, stretching his spine. 

“Can I see?” Bucky brings Steve out of his thoughts, his right eyebrow arched. 

“I still have to work on it a bit, but…” he drifts off, nodding his head. 

Bucky stands up, goes to the couch and puts on his underwear and joggers, then stands next to Steve. He looks at the painting, an unreadable expression on his face. Steve starts fiddling with the hem of his paint-splashed shirt, painfully aware of how close they’re standing, Bucky still without his shirt on. Steve looks back and forth between the brunette and the painting, trying to keep his focus on Bucky’s face and not his pectoral muscles that deserve a painting of their own. 

“Look, it’s--” 

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts, his eyes never leaving the painting. “I--” he stops, furrowing his eyebrows. “You--” the brunette huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what to say.” 

“Something, anything,” Steve pleads, as he still has no clue how Bucky feels about his portrayal. 

“‘S amazing. Fuck, Steve, you’re so talented, I--” the man swallows down hard, finally looking at Steve. “I could fucking kiss you right now.” 

_Please, do_ , is the first thought that pops into Steve’s mind and he gulps, looking down, a flush spreading on his cheeks. Bucky wraps his arms around the smaller man, squeezing tightly, his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. Steve’s breath catches in his throat as he feels the heat coming from Bucky’s naked chest. He knows his flush is probably covering his entire face but he’s happy nonetheless, even if slightly uncomfortable. Steve closes his arms around the small of Bucky’s back, his cheek resting against the brunette’s chest. He wills his heart to stop beating erratically but to no avail. He was scared Bucky wouldn’t like his work, the way he showed all his scars. He was afraid that painting would reveal how he truly feels about Bucky; how he admires his strength. He put so much detail into Bucky’s face he knows it shows. 

And yet, to Bucky it’s just a great painting. _Amazing._ Steve feels like he’s on cloud nine, floating around in his happiness. He allows himself to beam, closing his eyes for a split second and feeling safe. 

Bucky is first to pull back, but he still leaves his right arm resting on Steve’s shoulders. He looks at the painting, his eyes focused, his lips slightly parted. “I don’t look like that, Stevie.” 

“‘Course you do,” Steve smiles, the nickname still causing his heart to jump even though Bucky’s been using that a lot lately. 

“Guess I don’t hafta go to the gym more often, then,” Bucky smirks and Steve can’t keep a snort from escaping his mouth. 

“Well…” 

“Steven!” Bucky puts his left hand on his chest, pretending to be offended and Steve shoves his elbow between the other man’s ribs. “Ouch!” 

“Quit pouting,” Steve shrugs, seeing the expression on Bucky’s face, and the brunette sticks his tongue out. 

“Punk,” Bucky mumbles under his breath, on his way to the couch to put the rest of his clothes on. 

“Jerk,” Steve’s quick to answer as he flops down on the cushions, resting his head on the back of the couch. 

“Sure, Rogers, don’t get up, I know where to find the baked goods,” the brunette shakes his head, standing over Steve with his hands on his hips. 

“You can get me one too,” Steve takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, the stress of finishing the painting finally wearing off. He hears Bucky mumble “For the love of God…” under his breath on his way to the kitchen, and Steve smiles, keeping his eyes closed. 

* 

“Steve. Hey, Stevie!”

“Wha?” Steve blinks, rubbing his eyes and groaning. 

“Wake up, c’mon!” Bucky’s squatting next to him, his hair loose and falling down his face in soft waves. Steve smiles lazily, looking up at the steel blue eyes. He wants to reach out and put a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear, but his right hand is asleep and tingling. 

“Don’t wanna,” the blonde grumbles, his voice raspy. 

“I know pal, but you hafta,” Bucky chuckles, his right hand grabbing Steve by the shoulder and hoisting him up. “Help me up.” 

“No,” Steve tries to lay back down, but Bucky’s quicker and pulls him up. 

“For Christ’s sake, Steve,” he rolls his eyes and grabs Steve by the shoulders, shaking him a bit. 

Steve blinks, but his vision is blurry. “Where’s my glasses?” 

“Over there,” Bucky reaches to his left and pushes Steve’s glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Better?” 

The blonde blinks again and everything’s clear now. He realizes how close they’re standing, Bucky’s breath hot on his cheeks. He gets lost in the ocean blue of the other man’s eyes, a dreamy smile stretching his lips. “Buck…” Steve breathes, and leans in just a little bit. Bucky bites down on his lower lip which draws Steve’s eyes to it, and he wets his lips, finding the other man’s pink lips irresistible. His mind is still hazy and all he can think about is kissing Bucky, pulling him in and gently sucking his lower lip. 

He’s just about to close the gap between them when Bucky squeezes his arm a little bit tighter. “Steve, your class starts in half an hour,” he says quietly, without moving an inch. 

“What?” Steve whispers, his eyes still focused on Bucky’s plush lips. “ _What?!_ ” He sobers up, taking a step back, his mind suddenly clear. 

“You’ve gotta hurry,” the brunette lets go of his arms, looking everywhere but at Steve. He takes a step back too, hiding his hands in the pockets of his joggers. 

“Shit,” Steve swears under his nose, and runs towards his bedroom. 

He pulls the stained shirt over his head and strips from his sweatpants. Steve quickly puts on the first pair of clean jeans he finds in his closet and a blue sweater. He runs his hand through his hair a couple of times and grabs his bag he’s packed this morning. Closing the doors behind himself, Steve goes to the living room to find his phone. He pockets the device and finds Bucky standing by the door, already in his winter coat and boots. He throws on his jacket and scarf, putting his boots without even lacing them up. Steve grabs the keys and opens the doors, letting Bucky leave before him. He locks the doors and they both go down the staircase. 

“‘M sorry, I should’ve woke you up earlier,” Bucky scratches the back of his neck, not looking up. 

“‘S fine, I’m sorry I fell asleep on you.” 

Bucky stays silent after that and they leave the building together. “I’m going to Nat, I’ll text ya later?” The brunette finally looks at him and Steve sees something in his eyes, but he can’t exactly place it. He nods, giving Bucky a small smile. The man bites down on his lips and looks down, and Steve can tell he wants to say something so he waits. Bucky shakes his head though, remaining silent, gives Steve a quick wave and turns on his hill, going in the opposite directions. Steve frowns, but he can’t really dwell on it right now since he’s about to be late for his class. He turns and heads to the subway, praying that the train will come fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, penny for y'alls thoughts


	10. week twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unbetaed(?) so bear with me

“I’m sure you are aware that this is our last class before the exams. Today we will revise what we have been working on in this semester to make sure everyone is ready for the test next week. Just a reminder, the exam will be held in this classroom at ten in the morning.” 

The class nods in unison as Ms. Santiago finishes her quick announcement. She passes handouts to every student, making sure everyone has all the copies. “Let us start in page one. Do the first three exercises as a warmup, we will check it together in a minute.” 

Steve sighs, looking to his left side form the corner of his eye. Bucky’s there, sitting with Natasha as usual. They’re both focused on the sheets in front of them, the girl scribbling something down furiously. 

Steve hasn’t talked to Bucky since yesterday. The brunette said he’ll text him but Steve’s fallen asleep with a phone in his hand, no new messages. He has a pretty good idea why that’s the case, but, still, he wishes they could just move past his stupid stunt. So, he was going to kiss Bucky, so what? People do crazy things when they half asleep. _Right?_

The blonde scowls, looking at the handout in front of him like it personally offended him. Sure, looking at Bucky’s lips and leaning in wasn’t his greatest idea, but, in his defense, his mind was hazy and Bucky’s lips were just inches away from his. Plus, the way Bucky bit his lower lip was just sinful and Steve couldn’t be held accountable for being drawn to it, everyone would be. Besides, it’s not like anything happened between them, not really. Well, nothing Steve wanted to happen anyway. 

He picks up his pencil and taps its end against his mouth. Steve knows the awkwardness between them is his fault. Instead of saying something, anything, he fled to his bedroom and barely spared the other man a second glance. He didn’t even apologize for Christ’s sake. He could’ve said his hearing aid was turned off and he had to read Bucky’s lips. Hell, he could’ve said he was dizzy and needed a second to regain his composure. That’d probably make Bucky worried, but at least the brunette wouldn’t have a clue about Steve’s stupid crush on him. Bringing this up now is way too late and would only make things worse, Steve recons. 

So, he didn’t say anything when Bucky came to class just a minute before it started. Steve smiled at him and Bucky nodded back but that was about it. They haven’t exchanged a single word since yesterday and Steve finds himself already missing the guy. 

_God, it’s pathetic._ Bucky probably doesn’t want to have anything to do with him. What kind of a friend tries to kiss the other one right after falling asleep on them? It was stupid and, if Steve could turn back time, he’d do his best to stay awake. 

He can’t though so now he’s stuck in his last Spanish class before the exam, thinking about how pink Bucky’s lips were, instead of focusing on the task at hand. 

“America? Read the first three examples, please,” Ms. Santiago looks at the girl and she reads out loud, all of them correct. 

Steve tries his best to write down everything she says, and he almost nails it. Almost. The next one to read is Kate and Steve puts down everything she says, too. He hasn’t done any example, too lost in his own thoughts to even read the instructions, and now he’s beginning to panic. He glances at the other exercises, getting a hang of what it’s about, and trying hard to come up with answers. When his turn comes, he racks his brain and gives only one bad answer. Steve mentally gives himself a pat on the back, his hard work finally paying off, and decides to fully focus on the lesson. Before that however, he sends a quick text to Sharon, asking her to not wait for him as he’ll be in a hurry going to work. He feels bad about lying, but he can’t face talking to Bucky in front of both Sharon and Natasha, knowing Natasha probably has a pretty good idea of what happened yesterday. 

Steve slips his phone back to his pocket just as Ms. Santiago has them read the instructions for the next exercise. 

*

 

“Steve? Is that you?” 

“Yeah, Ma, I’m home,” the blonde closes the doors behind himself, leans against it, and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. He’s dead tired after working another closing shift, the shop being busier than usual. He guesses he could’ve expected that, with the exams starting on Monday and all the students needing an extra shot of caffeine. Still, all he wants to do is crawl into bed and never leave. 

“Well, come on in then, leanbh,” Sarah chuckles, sticking her head out of the kitchen to usher Steve inside. “I’m just about to take the rolls out the oven.” 

“Just a sec, Ma,” he promises, taking off his beanie and unwrapping his scarf. He shrugs off his winter coat, then toes off his shoes and takes his bag to his room. He changes quickly into his sweatpants and a worn out hoodie, then goes to the kitchen and drops a quick kiss on Sarah’s cheek. “It smells amazing.” 

“Well, I’m glad, because I’ve made plenty,” she smiles, taking the trays out and, _damn_ , she wasn’t kidding. Steve gapes at at least forty cinnamon rolls laying on the cooling rack. 

“You’ve got an army to feed?” 

“You might think so. I figured you can give some to your friends tomorrow, you’ll need the extra energy to study.” 

“Thanks,” Steve gives her an grateful smile, fixing himself a glass of water. He downs it in one go and puts it in the sink, intending to wash it in a second. He leans against the kitchen island and bows his head, breathing deeply. 

“What’s wrong?” Sarah arches her eyebrow, sitting on a stool next to him. 

“Nothin’. I’m just tired,” Steve figures it’s not technically a lie, because he actually is tired. He wants to tell her everything about Bucky, of course he does, but he doesn’t have the energy to go through it right now. He knows Sarah would be more than happy to hear about his crush, and she would most likely have a solution to his current situation, he just doesn't want to think about it. Steve feels bad about not telling her about how close the two of them are, how Bucky puts a smile on his face, and makes his stomach clench in a good way. How warm and mushy he feels whenever the guy calls him “Stevie,” and how he draws Bucky over and over again. There’s no point in telling her all the good stuff now, only to end with his stupid attempt at a kiss. So, he puts all those thought about Bucky aside, and plasters a smile on his face. “You need my help with anythin’?”

“No, leanbh, go get some rest,” she squeezes his arm gently and gets up. 

Steve nods his head, even though Sarah can’t see it as she has her back to him, and pushes himself up. He does the dishes and leaves the kitchen, wishing his Ma a goodnight on his way out. Steve goes to his bedroom and falls down on his bed, reaching for his phone, which he left on the nightstand. 

_**Aces** _

**Sam** : tomorrow 

**Sam** : our place 

**Sam** : study date 

**Peggy** : 4 on the dot 

**Shar** : kk 

**Peggy** : Steve?

**Steve** : yeah ok 

**Sam** : take your book my dear aces we’re nailin those exams 

**Shar** : someone’s positive 

**Sam** : someone’s had 4 study dates this week

**Shar:** someone’s bragging 

**Sam** : well duh 

**Peggy** : both of you shut up 

**Steve** : i support that 

**Sam** : yall are no fun 

**Shar** : how dare you 

**Steve** : im muting you 

**Sam** : rude 

**Sam** : also, good idea 

Steve laughs, locking his phone and throwing it on the bed somewhere. He gets up, takes off his hearing aid and glasses and goes for a quick shower. When he’s back, he crawls into bed, yawning, and checks his phone. There are no new messages and his heart sinks. He hasn’t really been expecting anything, but it still feels like a blow to the face. 

*

Steve comes back home late in the evening. The lights are out, the only source of light in the apartment coming from under Sarah’s bedroom doors. Steve smiles, unable to help himself, as he knows his Ma was waiting for him to come home. He takes off his beanie and unwraps his scarf, then toes off his shoes and shrugs off his coat. He goes straight to his bedroom, too tired to do anything else. Steve takes out his hearing aid and drops his bag by the door, deciding to deal with it tomorrow. He grabs his pajamas and goes to the bathroom, changing quickly and relieving himself. Steve goes back to his bedroom and flops down on his bed, covering himself with a duvet. 

He feels like his brain went to overload from studying so much. Sure, he, Sam, Peggy, and Sharon talked about their lives too, Steve choosing to omit the subject of nearly kissing Bucky, but they mostly studied as the exams start next week. Steve doesn't have so many written test, but the ones he does are massive. He can already feel how studying and working affects his body, as he feels even weaker than usual. His head hurts and his throat is itchy, but he chooses to ignore it for the time being. He’ll take meds in the morning and hope he’ll make it through next week. 

Steve’s just about to take off his glasses, and turn the night lamp off, when his phone’s screen lights up. 

**Bucky Barnes** : steve

**Bucky Barnes** : steeeviiie 

**Bucky Barnes** : roger 

**Bucky Barnes** : s*

**Bucky Barnes** : long time nosee

**Bucky Barnes** : i mean one day but longggg

**Bucky Barnes** : sup

Steve’s eyebrows knit together. Obviously, Bucky’s drunk. Steve just wonders where he is, and who’s with him, hoping the guy is not alone at a bar somewhere.

**Steve Rogers** : hey buck where are u?

**Bucky Barnes** : nat’s 

**Bucky Barnes** : no wait

**Bucky Barnes** : clints 

Steve lets out a breath, relieved. Bucky’s safe with his friends. Still, Steve doesn’t wanna take advantage of the fact the other man’s drunk, and might say something he’ll regret later. 

**Steve Rogers** : have fun!

**Bucky Barnes** : how

**Bucky Barnes** : ur not here 

Steve’s stomach makes a weird flip as the next message from Bucky comes. It’s a picture of him, Natasha, and Clint; Bucky’s in the middle, his hair loose and disheveled. He's holding a beer bottle slightly under his lips which are turned into the biggest pout Steve’s ever seen. Bucky’s eyebrows are slightly raised and his eyes are glassy, pupils blown, showing how drunk he really is. Natasha and Clint are on both of his sides, similar expressions on their faces. Clint looks absolutely drunk too, holding a slice of pizza in his hand. Natasha is the only one looking somewhat sober, although her makeup is slightly smudged, and her eyes are a bit glassy. 

Steve bites down hard on his lip, his heart beating hard. Even drunk, Bucky somehow manages to look adorable. 

**Steve Rogers** : next time 

**Bucky Barnes** : pinky promise

**Steve Rogers** : promise 

**Bucky Barnes** : ur the best

Steve shakes his head, chuckling softly under his nose. He puts his phone down and takes off his glasses. Closing his eyes, he still fights off a grin. 

*

Steve’s pacing in the living room, going back and forth between the couch and the window. Bucky’ll be there any minute now, as he still has to sign the painting Steve’s to turn in today. It’s Wednesday and he’s got only to exams left: art history and Spanish. The next two days will be stressful but he’s got something to look for; Sam, Peggy, Sharon and him are going out for drinks on Friday. Steve’s already taken a day off at work, knowing he’ll be too tired to pull off a six hours shift. He’s also not feeling that great, his head pounding and his throat itchy. He knows he shouldn’t ignore it, and should go to see his doctor, but he’s got too many things to do and he can’t afford to stay in bed. Besides, after this week, he has two weeks without any classes so he can keep it up for two more days. 

There’s a knock on the door and Steve jumps a little, startled. He goes to open it and lets Bucky inside. They haven’t seen each other since their last Spanish class, but they’ve texted some more since Saturday night. Bucky called him on Sunday, apologizing for his drunken texts. His voice was hoarse and he lacked his usual humor, probably hungovered. They talked for a while, Steve repeating his promise of going for a beer with him, Natasha and Clint. They had to hang up pretty quick though, as Steve had some more studying to do and Bucky, well, wasn’t feeling so hot. They texted back and forth since then, none of them mentioning the incident, as Steve refers to trying to kiss Bucky in his head. Steve asked the other man when he’ll be able to come and sign the paining and they both agreed on today. 

“Hi,” Bucky says, his lips curling in a small smile. He’s dressed in dark washed jeans and a hoodie, his winter jacket unzipped. He comes inside and pulls his scarf from around his neck, toeing off his boots. 

“Come on in,” Steve motions for him to go further into the apartment and reaches for the painting that’s near the couch. He places it on the coffee table and gives Bucky a sharpie. 

“Thanks,” the brunette mumbles, crouching down and putting his signature. He flips the paining and looks at it, mesmerized. “Can I take a picture?” Bucky asks timidly, his eyes not meeting Steve’s. 

“Sure,” Steve shrugs, giving him the go ahead. Bucky pulls his phone out of his pocket and snaps a quick photo. He looks at it for a second, his expression unreadable. 

“‘S amazing, Steve,” Bucky says quietly, finally looking up. 

Steve feels a blush spreading on his face. “Thanks,” he mumbles, not sure how to take a compliment. 

They’re standing so close, he can smell the aftershave Bucky must’ve used this morning. Steve looks at the brunette, taking in the soft waves framing his face, the red tip of his nose from the cold outside, the shining red of his lower lip from when he bit it. Steve swallows down hard, feeling his ears go hot. He wants to close the gap between them, and hug Bucky like his life depended on it. They lock eyes and Steve gets so lost in the icy blues, he feels like Bucky can tell everything that’s going on inside his head. 

The moment breaks though as a cough shakes Steve’s small frame. He turns away, covering his lips as he feels his lungs rattle. The blonde clears his throat, wincing slightly at the pain, and runs a hand through his hair. Bucky gives him a look, but Steve just shrugs sheepishly, not wanting to worry the brunette. 

“Steve?” 

“I’m fine,” he assures quickly. Steve can see Bucky’s still not convinced, so he decides to change the subject. “Hey, so about that drink. I, uh… Well, Sam, Peggy, Sharon and I wanna go out on Friday. Maybe, um… Maybe you wanna join?” He fumbles with the hem of his flannel unconsciously.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll tell Nat and Clint.” 

“Yeah, of course. That’s--yeah,” Steve wants to facepalm himself. Why is making a coherent sentence so hard all of a sudden?

“I’ll see you on Friday, then,” Bucky smiles, but Steve can immediately tell something’s on his mind. He looks down, biting on his lip and furrowing his brows and the blonde waits. Bucky doesn’t say anything though, only shakes his head slightly and retreats back to the entry hall. He puts on his boots and throws a scarf around his neck. The brunette opens the door, turning around to send a shy smile to Steve, then closes the doors behind himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop a line?


	11. week thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk, don't hate me?
> 
> TW for descriptions of violence

Steve hands his paper to Ms. Santiago and leaves the room as one of the last. He’s pretty sure he passed, although, it won't be anything spectacular. He didn’t understand everything, some exercises being too hard for him, but other than that, Steve thinks he did a pretty solid job. He even remembered the conjugation in all the tenses they’ve worked on, which he counts as a win. He wraps his scarf around his neck and leaves the building, heading straight for the subway. He still has a couple more hours to spare before going out for drinks and he could sure use a nap. He feels even worse than before, hiding his cough being almost impossible now. He’s running low on cold medicine and he could really use an appointment with a doctor, but it can wait till tomorrow. Sure, his lungs rattle and he’s pretty sure he has a slight fever, but Steve’ll be damned if he stays in bed instead of going out. Peggy has a late flight to England tomorrow and they won’t see each other for two weeks, so he can suck it up and go through one more day. Besides, it’s not like he’ll get completely wasted, he knows his limits. With his body being as weak and small as it is, all it takes for him to be pleasantly buzzed is two beers. So, Steve’ll stick with that tonight and everything should be fine. 

As soon as Steve gets on a train, he tunes everything out, taking out his phone and sending a text to his friends that he’s officially done with midterms. He gets out on his stop and goes home, stopping at a local bakery first. He gets his Ma’s favorite cupcakes, wanting to surprise her. He probably won’t be home when she arrives so he leaves them on a plate for her, with a note attached to it. Then, he goes straight to his room and flops down on his bed, falling asleep in an instant. 

Steve wakes up a couple hours later, feeling even worse. His medicine wore out and he feels his muscles aching. He doesn’t take any more though, not wanting to mix it with alcohol later. Steve puts on his glasses and strips from the clothes his wearing, taking a spare pair of boxer briefs to the bathroom with him. He takes a hot shower to ease the pain in his body and washes his hair. Once out, he takes an extra couple of minutes to style it and splashes some cold water on his face. Steve goes back to his room, and thinks about what to wear. Sam will be here soon, the two of them going together to _S.H.I.E.L.D._ to meet the rest. He sits on his bed, sighing. He doesn’t want to overdo it, but he also doesn’t want to look like he threw on the first things he found on the floor. Steve finally decides on beige slacks and a white button up, together with a black pair of suspenders. He puts it on quickly and runs a hand through his hair to make it look more messy. He’s just putting on his hearing aid when his phone rings, letting him know Sam’s outside. Steve lets him in and, if he takes a second to admire Sam’s outfit, well, who’s to judge. The guy’s dressed in a pair of tight black jeans and a black long sleeve, that clings in all the right places, and Steve has to admit he looks good. 

“My man!” Sam beams, as he envelops Steve in a tight hug. “Looking good.” 

“Thanks,” Steve looks down, smiling. “So, Riley joining us tonight?” 

“Oh hell yeah! What do you think this shirt is so tight for?” Sam laughs, wiggling his eyebrows and flexing. Steve rolls his eyes as he puts on his boots and shrugs on his coat. He gives himself a quick once-over in a mirror hanging in the living room and, being happy with the result, takes his keys out of a bowl. 

Steve and Sam leave the apartment, and go to the subway. From the station they have about two blocks to go and then they’re standing outside _S.H.I.E.L.D._ It’s their to-go bar every time they go out. They know most of the bartenders and, if they call, the owner, Fury, always keeps their favorite table waiting for them. It’s relatively small, only a couple of boots and a small dancing floor, but it’s more than enough. It’s not really popular, most of the goers there being regulars, but thanks to this there are never any lines and it’s not too crowded. The interior is dim, smelling of sweat and alcohol. The music is not too loud, unless people want to dance, then the owner turns it up a bit. They stumbled upon it in their first year of studies, on one of their first benders, and stayed loyal to the place ever since. 

Steve and Sam go inside, saying hello to Phil, the bartender working tonight, on their way to the table. Peggy and Sharon are already there, laughing and something, both with drinks in their hands. 

“Ladies,” Sam says as he slides into the booth. Steve follows suit, unwrapping his scarf and taking off his jacket. 

“Took you long enough,” Peggy jokes, taking a sip out of her glass. Sam jerks his head towards Steve and the blonde groans, rolling his eyes. 

“I was on time!” Steve mumbles, giving Sam a look. 

“Whatever, man,” Sam laughs, nudging him. 

“I need a beer,” Steve grumbles, getting up. His head hurts even more from the loud chatter and music inside the bar, and he needs something to take his mind off of how tired he feels. “You want one?” He looks at Sam. 

“Yeah, thanks,” the man nods, pulling out his wallet. Steve waves his hand at him and goes up to the bar. 

“Phil!” He smiles as the bartender comes up to takes his order.

“Long time no see,” the man smiles. “The usual?” 

“Two, please,” Steve nods, taking his wallet out. He puts the bills on the counter and watches as Phil pours the beers into two glasses. 

He’s just about to take the glasses and leave as he feels a slight tap on his shoulder. Steve spins around, seeing Bucky standing there, a small smile playing on his lips. “Bucky!” He exclaims, not able to hide his grin.

“Hey, Stevie,” the brunette leans against the counter. “Three beers and eight shots, please,” he says to Phil and looks back at Steve. At the blonde's arched eyebrow, he shrugs. “Nat insisted on buyin' everyone vodka. Somethin’ about teaching us how to drink.” 

“ _Oh God,_ ” Steve chuckles, realizing he’ll probably drink more than he originally wanted to. 

As Bucky turns back to Phil to pay, Steve lets his eyes linger on the brunette. He’s wearing washed jeans, so tight they leave very little to the imagination, paired with a black button up and black combat boots. His hair is loose, falling on his face and casting a shadow on his cheekbones. Steve swallows down hard, the butterflies in his stomach getting harder and harder to ignore. 

“Let’s go,” Bucky spins around, carrying a tray with all the drinks in his right hand. 

They go to their table, squeezing through all the people near the bar. Peggy, Sharon, Natasha, Clint, Sam and Riley are all squeezed in their booth, leaving a small space for Steve and Bucky. The blonde swallows down hard, realizing he’ll spend the entire night next to Bucky, their sides touching. They sit down, and as Steve gives one of the beers to Sam, Bucky hands the ones he bought to Clint and Riley. Natasha sends him a devilish smirk and puts vodka shots in front of everyone. 

“I better not see any of you wincing. We’re doing it the right way,” she raises her glass, waiting for everyone to join. 

“помиловать,” Bucky groans, to which the redhead laughs. Sharon arches her eyebrow questioningly, causing Nat to just smirk. 

They all clink their glasses and drink them at one go. Steve feels a shiver go down his spine as the alcohol burns his mouth and throat. He hates vodka and tries his best to not drink it at all, always going with beer instead. He wasn’t going to deny it tonight though, so he winces slightly at the taste. The blonde looks around the table, noticing that only Sam and Clint show any reaction, the rest of his friend seemingly unperplexed. 

Natasha shakes her head, amused. “You’re hopeless, Barton.” 

“You all crazy,” the guy shrugs, reaching for his beer. 

“Now, hold on a second--” Sam starts, but Bucky waves his hand at him. 

“Don’t bother. To him anythin’ other than beer ‘s crazy” 

“You two lived in Russia, how the fuck am I supposed to compete?” Clint makes a face as Natasha sticks her tongue at him. 

“Admit it, Clint, you can’t hold your liquor,” the redhead smirks, teasing him. 

“Fuck off,” he grumbles and the whole table erupts with laughter. 

“Speaking of…” Sam drifts off, looking at Steve with a sly grin. 

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Steve squints his eyes at him, his voice stern. 

“Come on, Steve, it’s hilarious!” Peggy chuckles, her eyes pleading. 

“What’s hilarious?” Bucky chips in, looking between the three of them incredulously.

“Steve ever told you how he got the ‘cap’ nickname?” Sam looks at Bucky, and Steve can tell the man can’t wait to tell this story. 

“What?” Bucky looks at Steve with those damn icy blues and Steve sighs, giving Sam the ‘go ahead.’ 

“Oh, man! Okay, so,” Sam leans against the table, clasping his hands together. Everyone mimics the man's pose, and Steve groans, hiding his face in his hands. “We were like, what, freshmen here, right? Yeah, so a month in or somethin’ the four of us met in my place for drinks, gossips and all that. We had to talk about our studies and stuff. So, everyone brought somethin’ to drink, we bought a couple pizzas and settled in. We were all a bit drunk when Sharon here,” he points his finger at the girl and she just shakes her head, a smile on her lips. “So she thought it’d be a great idea to do tequila shots. We got right to it and did a couple of rounds. Steve liked it so much he took a couple more than the rest of us, but, hell, we didn’t notice until both him and the bottle were gone. He said he’s going to the bathroom and disappeared for good half an hour. So then we banged the bathroom doors, asking if he’s alright, got real worried. Next thing we know, he emerges from my bedroom, dressed in my dad’s army uniform. I still had it after he was in the city for some meeting or whatever. Anyways, he stumbles out, an empty bottle in his hand, the uniform three times too big. We ask him ‘the hell, Steve’ and that asshole just grins and yells ‘I’m a Captain!’” 

The entire table roars with laughter and Steve wishes the ground would just swallow him up. He feels his cheeks heat up and he takes a long swing of his beer. Sam laughs so hard he cries and Bucky shakes uncontrollably next to Steve.

“After that he just passed out on the couch, hugging the bottle,” Sam wheezes out, wiping at his eyes. 

“Please tell me you’ve got pictures,” Bucky chokes out between the fits of laughter and Steve just groans. He’ll never live this down. 

“We’re his friends, of course we’ve got pictures,” Sharon huffs, fishing her phone out of her jeans. 

“Sharon!” Steve hisses, beet red. 

“I love you too, _Cap_ ,” she grins, her fingers typing on the cell. She pulls out the picture and shows it to everyone, the rest of the table wheezing. 

“I hate you,” Steve grumbles, seeing himself lying on the couch in an army uniform, an empty bottle of tequila cradled in his arms. 

“Aww, don’t be like that, Cap,” Clint smirks, causing Steve to rolls his eyes. 

“We’ve all had our moments,” Bucky says, once he stops laughing, nudging Steve. 

“Some more than others,” Peggy winks, and Steve leans back, resting his head against the booth. He knew it was a bad idea. 

“We’re not longer friends,” Steve mumbles, glaring at her. 

“You’re leaving the aces?” Sharon teases, taking a sip of her drink.

“Aces?” Bucky asks, looking between the two of them. Steve gulps, as he realizes Bucky has no idea he’s ace. They’ve never really talked about it, and he doesn’t know if now is a good time. He looks at Sharon, alarmed, but she just smiles. 

“Yeah. ‘Cause we’re acing all our classes,” she shrugs, and Steve sends a grateful smile her way. 

He knows one day he’ll have to tell Bucky about his sexuality, especially if he’ll ever want to act on his feelings, which, if truth’s being told, are all over the place right now. But, he prefers to do it somewhere where they could actually talk, just the two of them. 

Steve’s not hiding the fact that he’s ace, not quite. He’s just not announcing it to everyone--he figures it’s not really everyone’s business. The people that should know, know, and the rest, well, Steve couldn’t care less. He really wants to come out to Bucky though, as he considers the brunette one of his closest friends. However, he didn’t really have the chance as it’s not something he can just casually bring up. Even if what Peggy says is true, and Bucky is in fact gay, Steve still doesn’t know if he’ll want to be in a relationship without sex. Hell, he doesn’t even know if Bucky likes him that way, and after that almost-kiss incident he pulled, he doesn’t know if he wants to know the answer to that. 

“Steve!” Peggy says loudly, nudging his foot under the table, bringing him out of his thoughts. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, taking sip of his beer. He notices most of the table have already finished their drinks and he still has more than a half. 

“Hurry up, we wanna go get another round,” Sharon nods her head towards the bar. 

“You guys go ahead,” Steve nods and Sharon stands up. 

“Who’s going with me?” She asks, pocketing her credit card. 

“I’m going outside, Angie just texted, she’s two blocks away,” Peggy says, getting up too. Steve arches his eyebrow in her direction, as she didn’t say anything before, but she just shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“I’ll go,” Natasha announces, standing up. Both Steve and Bucky get up too to let her leave, then sit back down. Steve exchanges quick glances with Sam, both of them lost. Last time they all talked, Sharon was still hopelessly crushing on the redhead. 

Steve’s just about to say something to Sam, when Riley whispers in the man’s ear and grins. “So we’re gonna go dance for a sec, y’all hold our seats,” Sam says standing up and grabbing his boyfriend's hand. 

They start swaying their hips as soon as they leave the booth, leaving Steve, Bucky, and Clint to themselves. 

“So, you and Nat?” Bucky asks Clint, leaning closer the the guy and speaking slowly. 

“Just friends,” the blonde shrugs, playing with his empty glass. 

“You good?” 

“Eh,” Clint waves his hand and Steve can tell he’s not really comfortable talking about this right now. Bucky senses it too, squinting at his friend, and shrugs. 

“Alright, then,” the brunet says, leaning back against their booth. His knee bumps into Steve’s as he turns his head towards the blonde. “Drink up, Cap.” 

Steve groans. “Not you too.” 

“‘S hilarious,” Bucky grins, nudging Steve’s shoulder. “Come on, Stevie.” 

The blonde shakes his head, smiling, but takes a long sip of his drink nonetheless. He licks his lips as he puts his glass back on the table. They sit in a comfortable silence for a while, Bucky’s knee jiggling to the music, waiting for Natasha and Sharon to come back. They come to the table a couple minutes later, Natasha carrying a tray with shots and Sharon with beers and her drink. 

“посмотреть на вас обоих,” the redhead says, a soft smile on her lips. Bucky rolls his eyes, his cheeks getting slightly pink. Steve raises his eyebrow questioningly, but Natasha only shakes her head. 

Both Steve and Bucky start getting up to let her sit down, but she just waves at them and sits next to Sharon, placing the shots in front of them all. 

“Bottoms up, возлюбленные,” the redhead says, raising her glass. They all follow, and drink the shots in one go, Steve wincing again. 

His head is throbbing and he feels like he got hit by a truck. The alcohol’s not really helping, and, for a second, he wishes he took his meds. But, it’ll be no use now so he decides to suck it up and enjoy the night. Besides, he can already feel the warmth from the shots and beer spreading through his body and he knows he’ll be drunk in no time. 

The next couple of rounds happen real quick and before Steve knows it, everyone is drunk and having fun. He skipped a couple of shots, not wanting to end up in the ER with alcohol poisoning, but he’s already on his third beer. All of them, except for Bucky and Sam, are on the dance floor, jumping around to the newest hits. They’re all dancing somewhat close to each other, Peggy and Angie having eyes only for themselves. Natasha challenged Riley who’ll scream the words louder, both of them singing at the top of their lungs. 

Clint nudges Steve’s shoulder and nods his head towards their table, signing look at them as they both have their hearing aids turned down. Steve follows the man’s line of sight and looks at their friends. Sam has his arm slung around Bucky, leaning close to him and saying something using his free hand. The brunette scratches behind his right ear and laughs, bowing his head and smiling. Sam squeezes him, wiggling his eyebrows and Steve feels a grin spreading on his face. He looks at Clint, the blonde smiling as well. Sharon puts her arms around them and says something too quiet for them to catch. Steve arches his eyebrow and that’s when ‘3005’ by Childish Gambino starts playing. Clint wolf-whistles, grinning, and nudges Steve. _It’s Bucky’s song_ , he signs, and turns to look at their friends. Steve follows and catches the wide smile on the brunet’s face. He says something to Sam and they both get up, making their way to the rest of them. Bucky wiggles into the crowd and stops straight in front of Steve. He starts singing and swaying his hips to the music, grinning the whole time. Steve finds himself mesmerized by the brunet’s movements, the way he swirls his body to the rhythm. Steve starts moving clumsily, having two left feet. Bucky beams at him and comes closer, looking straight into Steve’s eyes as he sings the chorus. 

“No matter what you say or what you do,” Bucky licks his lips and points his fingers at Steve. “When I’m alone I’d rather be with you,” he spins around, than drags a hand through his hair. He grabs Steve’s suspenders and pulls him closer, leaning down to sing straight to his good ear. “I’ll be right by your side, till 3005. Hol’ up!” 

Steve laughs as Bucky takes his hand and spins him around. The brunet licks his lips again, leaving them obscenely red and wet, and sways his hips to the beat. He closes his eyes, getting lost in the music and Steve can’t tear his eyes away from Bucky. He promptly stumbles over his own feet and falls straight onto the man in front of him. The brunet chuckles, catching him, then leaves his hands on Steve’s hips as he guides him through the song. They dance together and Steve finally allows himself to get lost in both the beat thrumming in his body and his feelings. He keeps his eyes trained on Bucky and sings the chorus with the brunette, laughing when he gets the words wrong. When the song ends, Bucky sends him a devilish grin, his face glowing from the sweat, and pulls Steve closer, hugging him. 

The embrace ends all to quickly for Steve, as the next song drops and Bucky pulls away. He immediately starts dancing, throwing his head back and swaying his hips, seemingly unaware of the hungry looks he’s getting from everyone else on the dance floor, Steve included. The blonde wishes he had his sketchbook with him so he could capture Bucky as he is right now, his skin glowing, head thrown back, eyes half-closed. He looks beautiful and Steve has to swallow down hard. Sharon nudges his hip, raising her eyebrow. He just shakes his head and nods towards the bar, letting her know he’ll go get another drink. She nods, and he makes a beeline to the counter. 

Steve waits patiently for his turn, looking back a couple of times to locate his friends. They’re just a swirling mess of bodies at this point and he loses the sight of them in the crowd. He sighs, focusing on getting another beer. His head is spinning at this point and he knows he has a drunken grin on his face. He lets his eyes scan the people at the bar and he stops at a couple standing nearby. The girl is trying to put her glass down but the guy keeps raising it and putting it in her hand. She scowls, drawing her eyebrows together and the man wets his lips suggestively. Steve can’t help but take a small step into their direction, turning his hearing aid up a bit. 

“I said no,” the girl says sternly, pushing the glass away. 

“Just one more, doll,” the man says, an ugly smile stretching his lips. Steve fists his hands, his jaw clenching, and takes another step. 

“Dude, just go home. I said fucking no,” the girl hisses, taking a step back. 

“Now, don’t go just yet, we’re having fun,” the guy slurs, and Steve resolve hardens. 

He takes another step and stands right in front of them. “She said no, pal, back off,” the blonde says, straightening up, his fists clenched. 

“‘S none of your business, get lost,” the man shrugs Steve off, not even looking at him, as he pushes the glass towards the girl. 

“Leave her alone,” Steve hisses, pushing the glass away from the girl. She looks at him incredulously, as she takes another step back. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” The guy slurs again, the smile gone from his face, as he looks at Steve. “Get the fuck out before I make you.” 

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Steve says through clenched teeth, his jaw jutted out. 

The man pushes Steve aside, the force throwing him slightly off balance, as he looks back at the girl. “Where were we, sweetheart?” 

“She’s not interested, asshole,” Steve spits out, taking the glass from the man’s grip.

The guy takes a deep breath through his nose and straightens up, towering over Steve. “You wanna take this outside, blondie?” 

Before giving Steve a chance to answer, the man takes the glass and slams it on the counter, then grabs Steve by his arm and drags him outside the front door. The blonde tries to resist and stand his ground, but he’s got no chance, as he’s drunk and the man is way stronger than he is. The guy lands a punch to Steve’s jaw as soon as they’re outside, then pushes him into an alley behind the corner. Steve struggles to stay upright as the man pushes him again, straight into the brick wall. The blonde shivers, his back hitting the wall hard. 

“Not so smart now, huh,” the guy grits through clenched teeth as he swings again. 

Steve nearly dodges it, but as his movements are slowed down due to alcohol, the punch still connects to his jaw. The blonde hisses, feeling copper in his mouth. He spits it out, adjusting his glasses and drawing his fists up. The guys lets out a deep, throaty chuckle, throwing his head back. Steve uses it to his advantage and lands a punch to the guy’s stomach, causing him to double down. 

“Fuck!” The guy breathes, coughing. “You fucker,” he hisses, as he lands another punch to Steve’s jaw. 

The blonde winces in pain, feeling his lower lip split. He raises his fists, trying to block the man’s punches and failing miserably. His head is spinning and the guy’s movements are too fast for his hazy brain. Steve can hear the guy say something, but it all blends into a mumble as his head is pounding, the pain from his jaw becoming unbearable. 

“I can do this all day,” Steve hears himself mumble, and the man laughs out loud, taking a swing and hitting the blonde in his stomach. Steve feels the breath getting knocked out of him and his knees give out, leaving him sliding down the wall. The guy kicks him in the stomach and his ribs a couple of times and Steve coughs blood, feeling it dripping from his lips. He tries to say something but it comes out as an incoherent mumble, as he keeps coughing, his head throbbing. He can barely take a breath, his ribs hurting too much, and he drags his hands to his face, trying to at least save his glasses. 

The man stops kicking him and leans down. The last thing Steve registers is a solid blow to his face, which knocks him out. 

*

Steve comes to the sound of rhythmic beeping. His head is pounding and he feels like he had a close meeting with a truck. His throat hurts and he feels something over his nose and lips. He tries to take a deep breath, to calm himself down as he feels his anxiety rising, but that only brings more pain to his lungs and ribs. He tries to open his eyes and struggles, one of them swollen shut. He looks around with his good eye, but his poor sight makes everything kind of blurry. The only thing he can say for sure is that he seems to be in hospital, the beeping sound coming from a machine on his right. He looks down at himself and sees a sling on his left shoulder, his wrist covered in bandages. The clip monitoring his heartbeat is on his right index finger, and there’s an IV dripping fluids straight into his veins. 

Steve blinks, trying to remember what happened. His memory seems to be hidden by a thick fog as he tries to bring the events back. The last thing he remembers is some guy slamming a glass on the counter. Steve furrows his brows, closing his eyes, trying to jolt his memory. He was arguing with the man about something… Right, the guy tried to make some girl drink even when she refused a couple times. But what was he doing before that? 

Steve takes a somewhat deep breath, the mask over his face delivering all the oxygen he needs, and focuses hard. He was out with his friends after the midterms ended. They were drinking and dancing and he thinks he went to the bar to get another drink after he danced with Bucky… _Bucky._

Steve’s eyes fly open, his breath catching in his throat. The memory comes with full force, their dance playing in front of his eyes. He can’t remember the song, but the image of Bucky swaying his hips and licking his lips, throwing his head back and laughing, hits Steve so hard his heart starts beating faster. He remembers the brunette singing the chorus along, looking straight into Steve’s eyes. He remembers Bucky grabbing him by his suspenders and singing straight to his good ear, then smirking. Steve’s breath hitches as he remembers the smell of beer mixed with cologne hitting his nostrils as they hugged on the dance floor. A shiver goes down his spine as the memory of Bucky putting his hands on Steve’s hips and guiding him through the song resurfaces with full force. He can feel his heart racing, the sound of the monitor picking up. 

The doors to his room fly open and Steve starts at the sound of it hitting the wall. 

“Steve!” His Ma comes running into the room, a doctor following her steps. She’s not in her nurse uniform, dressed in a comfy sweater and a pair of old sweats. Her hair is tied up and there are deep bags under her eyes. “You’re awake,” she breathes, standing by his bed and taking his right hand into her, leaning over him with her eyes searching. Steve nods, unable to talk with the mask over his face. “Jesus Christ, Steve,” Sarah says quietly, her voice trembling, as she leans down and puts her forehead to his. “Don’t you ever do this to me again, you hear me?” She says sternly, her voice but a whisper. 

Steve closes his eyes, feeling a lump in his throat. He feels something damp on his face and realizes silent tears are streaming down Sarah’s face. He squeezes her hand reassuringly and swallows down hard, only now realizing how much she must’ve been hurting. 

“Sarah…” the doctor starts, and his Ma pulls away. 

“Sorry, go ahead,” she motions, taking a step back but still staying close to him. 

The doctor nods, sending her a small smile, and comes over to Steve. He checks his vitals and takes his temperature, then pulls out a small flashlight to check if Steve’s got a concussion. He scribbles something down on Steve’s chart and takes the oxygen mask off of the blonde’s face. 

“How we’re feeling?” The doctor asks, clipping his pen to his coat. “I’m Bruce Banner, I don’t think we’ve met yet,” he gives Steve a small smile, adjusting his glasses. 

“I’m good,” Steve’s voice is hoarse and he winces, clearing his throat. His Ma hands him a glass of water and he takes a couple of small sips. “Fine,” he nods, trying to smile and hissing at the pain of his split lip. 

“Steven,” his Ma sends him a look and he sighs, closing his eyes for a second. 

“Okay, I’ve been better,” Steve admits quietly, looking at the ceiling. 

“Understandable,” the doctor, Bruce, nods. “Well, we’ll glad to have you back with us. I’ll be back later, I’m sure you have a lot to talk about,” he nods his head to Sarah and gets out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. 

“Steve--” Sarah starts, but he quickly interrupts. 

“I’m sorry, Ma. I really am.” 

“Well, that’s a first,” she chuckles, sitting on the edge of his bed and taking his hand in hers. “What the hell happened?” 

Steve lets out a deep breath, licking his lips. “This guy was trying to make a girl drunk. He was pushing a drink a her, and I just--I… He wasn’t gonna give up.” 

“Steve… Not every fight is yours,” Sarah says quietly, the exhaustion on her face making Steve feel like a piece of shit. He hates knowing he’s the cause of that. 

“I know. I’m sorry,” he whispers, not able to look her in the eyes. He feels stupid for getting into a fight in the state he was in. He could’ve just told Phil, the bartender would make sure the guy was thrown out. Instead, he had to put himself out there. Just like he always does. 

“You were out for three days Steve. You’d wake up, mumble something with no sense and fall right back into sleep,” she looks him right in the eye and Steve notices there are tears in her eyes. “I was worrying sick. If no one had found you in that back alley… ” 

“I’m so sorry, Ma, I--” his voice breaks as the consequences of his actions hit him. He could’ve died out there. He was beaten unconscious, with nobody knowing where he was. 

“Don’t you dare to do this again,” Sarah says, an edge to her voice. 

“I won’t,” Steve promises quickly, squeezing her hand. 

They stay in silence for a while, dealing with all the “what ifs”. Steve’s breath trembles and he looks down, swallowing down hard. 

“I’ll go let the other ones know you’re awake,” Sarah says quietly, squeezing his hand one last time and getting up. 

Steve furrows his brows, but, before he can ask, she’s out of the room. He lays in silence, looking at the ceiling. He wonders what happened, who found him. He thinks about his friends and how they must’ve felt when they found out. Steve curses his stupidity as the guilt sinks in. They all just wanted to have fun and he ruined it all. 

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Steve,” the doors open and Sam comes in, throwing his hands in the air. He comes closer to the bed and puts Steve’s glasses on his face. “What the hell?” 

“Sam, I’m sorry--” 

“When will you _fucking_ learn?” The man shakes his head, sitting in a chair beside the bed. He puts his head in his hands and takes a deep breath. “Do you have any idea how worried we were? You went for a beer and then I get a call from Sarah that you’re here, barely breathing? We were looking for you everywhere!” 

“Sam, look, I know--” 

“No, Steve. I love you, man, and I know you’ve got your principals and all that. But getting in a fight _drunk_?” Sam stands up abruptly and walks to the window, his back to Steve. He takes a couple of deep breaths, the room silent. He stays there for a while, then walks back to sit in the chair. “You’ve gotta stop pulling this shit. If not for yourself, then for Sarah.” 

“ _I know_ ,” Steve says sternly, scowling. “Look, I know this was stupid, okay? I know, and I’m sorry, and I won’t do this again, okay? I won’t.” 

Sam shakes his head, looking up at the blonde. “I wish,” he breathes. “Peggy knows. She says she’ll murder you when she’s back.” 

“I’m sure of it,” Steve chuckles quietly. 

“How are you, though?” Sam asks, calmer now. 

Steve shrugs his right shoulder. “Hurts like a son of a bitch.” 

“Good. Maybe it’ll teach you somethin’,” Sam sends him a smile and Steve knows he’s no longer mad. The blonde lets out a breath, relieved. He hates when Sam’s mad at him as it rarely even happens. Every time he is, though, he’s a hundred percent right. “As much as I’d like to stay here and talk your ear off, I think ima leave it to someone else. Besides, I gotta call Peggy and Sharon.” 

“Someone else?” Steve asks, confused. With Peggy back in England, there isn’t anyone else who’d be more furious with him then Sam. 

“Oh, boy,” the man shakes his head, smiling, then leaves the room. 

Steve has barely any time to think about what Sam said, the door banging open merely seconds after the dark skinned men closed it behind him. Bucky comes flying into the room, taking a hurried look at Steve’s small frame covered in bed sheets. The lines on his forehead smooth out as he takes a deep breath, his tense shoulders going down a bit. He closes the doors behind himself softly and shuffles closer to the bed. The brunet sits on the edge of it, looking at Steve with concern in his eyes. 

“Are you in pain?” Bucky says quietly, his eyes searching Steve’s face for any sign of discomfort. 

“I’m good, Buck,” Steve sends him a small smile, finally looking properly at the other man. There are deep dark circles under his eyes, which are a little bit glassy. His hair is in a bun atop his head and there’s a couple of days worth of stubble on his chin. His skin looks pale, his eyes dim. Steve furrows his brows and lets his eyes travel down. Bucky’s dressed in a dark sweats and a grey, crumpled hoodie. “Buck…” 

“Don’t,” the man shakes his head, his throat working silently. “How are you feeling? For real?” His keeps eye contact with Steve, icy blue eyes piercing through him, and Steve sighs. 

“Like shit,” Steve admits, looking down. 

“Why, Stevie? Why would you do that?” Bucky murmurs, leaning down and putting his arms on his thighs. 

“I was drunk, I wasn’t thinkin’,” Steve mumbles, looking everywhere but at the other man. He can handle being a disappointment to his Ma and his friends, all of them already well used to his recklessness, but Bucky… After he helped Steve in that back alley all those weeks ago, Steve was really trying his best to not get into any trouble. He wasn’t picking fights with anyone, choosing to call the cops whenever he saw something shady going on. He was trying to be someone Bucky might like to hang with or maybe even date. He knew the brunet probably wouldn’t mind his rambling about social justice and inequalities or art, but he still kept himself in check as not to bore him. He was trying, _goddammit,_ and he ruined it all with this stupid stunt. Sure, Bucky was still here but how long before he realizes Steve is a hopeless case? 

“Steve!” Bucky says, nudging his right shoulder slightly. The blonde blinks, realizing he spaced out again. “What did he do?” 

“Trying to get this girl drunk,” Steve shrugs his shoulder. 

“You wanted to fight a guy for offering a drink?” Bucky says, his eyes widened in disbelief. 

“He wasn’t offering her a drink, Buck, he wanted her to drink it so badly, I was worried he put somethin’ inside it,” Steve huffs, defending his actions. 

“And she?” 

“She what?” 

“What did she do?” 

“She refused but he wouldn’t back down and--” 

“So you couldn’t tell anyone? You had to do it by yourself?” 

“I wasn’t thinking _straight_ Bucky, I was drunk and he was pushy and--” Steve hisses, but Bucky interrupts him, standing up abruptly and throwing his hands in the air. 

“Christ, Steve, do you even hear yourself?! A guy was giving someone a drink and you just had to fight him?!” the brunet puts his hands on his hips, his breathing picking up. 

“I couldn’t just stand there, Bucky!” Now Steve gets angry too, his heartbeat picking up. “I know it was stupid, okay--” 

“Do you? Or do you just say that to make us all feel better?” Bucky’s voice sounds like gravel as he looks at the blonde, his face a mix of emotions. 

“You really think so?” Steve lifts himself up a bit,fixing the pillow behind his back, to have a better look at Bucky. 

“I don’t know what I think,” the brunet admits, turning his back on Steve. 

“Buck,” Steve starts, pleading. 

“Do you have any idea how I felt? How _we all_ felt?” Bucky sends him a quick glance, then turns around again, speaking quietly. “We searched the entire bar, Steve. Asked people, checked the bathrooms twice, called every minute, went outside to see if maybe you just wanted some fresh air. Imagine how we felt getting a call from Sarah that you’re here. Barely breathing, dislocated shoulder, probably broken ribs and concussion. Found in an back alley by god knows who, god knows how long after being beaten unconscious. _Fuck_ , Steve, I--” his voice wavers and he clears his throat. “Mogłem cię stracić. Ot tak, bo nie myślałeś,” his shoulders shake slightly as he takes a deep breath and Steve watches his back feeling a lump in his throat. 

“Bucky, I’m so sorry, I…” Steve stops, not knowing what to say. He expected Sarah’s worry and Sam’s anger, but he didn’t know what to expect from Bucky. He’d rather it was anger than disappointment, as he feels like an idiot for causing his Ma and his friends so much pain. He knows what he did was reckless. Had he had any sense of self-preservation he’d have just told Phil or anyone that the man was pushing his luck. Instead, he had to take matters into his owns hands and look how it turned out. Sarah was probably worrying sick about him, same as his friends, and Bucky… Bucky who deserves nothing but happiness, who’s been through so much already. Who Steve admires and considers one of his best, if not the best, friends, who he lo--

 _Huh. Well isn’t that interesting._

Steve bites his lower lip, sucking it slightly. He’s never thought about it before, but it makes sense. He feels comfortable around Bucky, not ashamed of his frail body. Bucky doesn’t look down on him and has never made fun of his allergies or asthma. He’s kind and generous and quick to help others, his smile making Steve’s insides melt just at the thought. Bucky makes him so happy by just being there, no matter whether in person or through texts. He makes Steve want to become better, less angry with the world around him. He’s beautiful inside and out and Steve would be lying if he said he didn’t think about curling in Bucky’s arms and staying there forever. He’s thought about kissing Bucky, letting his fingers run through his soft curls and holding him close. He wants to be able to hold Bucky’s hand or massage his shoulders after a stressful day of classes. Most of all, he want to be there for the brunet, wants him to know he can always count on Steve. 

But how is Bucky supposed to count on him when the first time they went out for drinks together Steve started a fist fight with a guy twice his size? 

“Steve…” Bucky stands by his bed now, his hand brushing Steve’s gently to bring him to the present. The blonde looks up, his cheeks burning with the sudden realization. “I’m sorry. I hafta go.” 

The brunet curls his lips into a smile, but it falls flat. He sighs, not even pretending now, and backs away. 

“Bucky? Bucky, wait!” Steve sits up, hissing and wincing at the pain shooting from his shoulder and ribs. The man stops, though, turning around, his hand on the door knob. “Where are you going? What are you… Why are you sorry?” Steve asks quickly, his voice slightly panicked. 

Bucky sighs, his shoulders slumping. He looks down, and if Steve’s anxiety wasn’t rising, he would’ve been stunned by Bucky’s killer cheekbones. “I… I just have to go.” 

“Please, Buck,” Steve pleads, running a hand through his hair, the panic in his chest rising. 

“Steve… Straciłem już jedną osobę. Nie przeżyje tego po raz kolejny,” Bucky says, his voice quiet, as he looks up, his eyes piercing Steve one last time before he leaves the room, closing the doors behind himself softly. 

Steve slumps down on the bed, tears filling his eyes. He closes them, feeling his chest collapsing as a broken sob escapes his mouth. He clasps his hand over it, pushing his head into the pillow. Silent tears are streaming down his face as he realizes he’s in love with a man who just walked out of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, tell me what y'all think 
> 
> plus, kudos to you if you can link that one scene with the ace cc panel


	12. week fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more left till the end!

Steve wakes up to Sarah gently nudging his shoulder. He blinks a couple of times, clearing his throat. His head still hurts, but he does feel better overall. He’s been released from the hospital yesterday, instructed to spend the next week in bed, without overworking himself. Steve still feels like shit, but at least his face is no longer bruised and his dislocated shoulder doesn’t hurt as bad to need a sling. His ribs are better too, only ugly bruises left now. 

Steve's head does hurt, though, and he squints at the sunlight overflowing his room. 

“I’m leaving for work,” Sarah says loudly, signing as well as he doesn’t have his hearing aid on. “Sam promised to visit soon,” she continues, putting her hand to his forehead. She frowns and looks over him with worry in her eyes. 

They both decided that it’s best she come back to work as being at home won’t change anything about Steve’s recovery. Sure, Sarah is a nurse, but he doesn’t need constant supervision anymore and, as much as they love each other, they’d drive themselves crazy being together 24 hours a day, seven days in a week. His Ma was nervous about it at first, but Dr Banner convinced her, saying Steve still needs to rest and lay in bed. There’s not much she can do, apart from making sure he takes his meds and doesn’t move too much to speed the recovery. Besides, it’s Friday and she’s already said she’ll stay at home over the weekend, making only a quick trip to the shelter and attending Sunday’s mass. 

Steve nods, knowing his voice probably sounds like gravel, and sits up, reaching for his hearing aid and glasses. 

“I left you some waffles on the kitchen island,” she adjusts his pillows and he smiles at her thankfully. “Oh, and when Sam comes, there are cookies in the oven.” 

“Thanks, Ma,” Steve says, reaching for her hand and squeezing. She reciprocates the gesture and smiles, though Steve can still see hesitation in her eyes. “I’ll be fine, I promise,” the corners of his lips lift as he nods his head at her. Sarah gives him a look, but turns around, sighing. 

He can hear her walking around in the hallway, then the doors open and close, and he’s left alone. Steve takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, and leans his head back. He has to get up soon to take his meds and eat, then he’ll probably go back to bed and watch Netflix, waiting for Sam to come. He doesn’t want to be alone and his friends, sensing it, have been coming to visit him all the time in the hospital. He was by himself only when he was sleeping, and even then he could swear Sarah was checking up on him. She basically spent the entire week in the hospital, either working or sitting in his room, keeping him company. Everyone’s trying to keep his mind off of the only person he’s heard nothing but radio silence from, like they all know how much it hurts him. 

Steve hasn’t heard from Bucky since the man left the hospital on Monday. Not a single text, no phone call, nothing. Sure, he tried reaching out to him but to no avail. Steve knows damn well he drove Bucky away with this stupid fight and he’s mad at himself over how dumb it was. He’s lucky it wasn’t snowing that night or he’d have frozen to death. What makes him feel even worse, is what Natasha’d told him one time when she came to visit. 

It was a couple days after he woke up and he was still pretty banged up. She sat down on a chair next to his bed, her face unreadable, and flickered her eyes over his sheet-covered body. She sighed, leaning on her arms, and looked down. 

“He’s in Indiana,” she shook her head, frowning at herself and Steve gulped, remembering the last time Bucky went there. “He uhh… He goes there every time he has something big he has to process. Usually he just takes it out at the gym, but sometimes… Sometimes he needs a break.” 

She looked up at him, raising her eyebrow slightly. Steve nodded, assuring her he was listening, but stayed silent. 

“I know he told you about Becca and his last trip to Indiana,” Steve swallowed, nervous and not sure where this was going. Natasha paid him no mind though, continuing. “I guess you being beaten by a drunk guy triggered some memories.” 

She paused, looking him straight in the eye and then Steve understood why Bucky left so upset. Of course the brunette was mad at him, he literally asked for that fight. Jesus, he wasn’t even think about how Bucky must’ve felt, the memories of losing his baby sister because of some drunk idiot. “ _Fuck_ …” Steve breathed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He really _is_ an idiot. 

“Look, Steve, it’s not your fault,” Natasha said calmly, sitting back. “Just give him time and some space. He’ll come around he just needs to… deal with everything,” she stood up and came closer to his bed, squeezing his arm reassuringly. 

Steve felt overwhelmed with emotions, with his sudden realization of affection for Bucky and the fact he can’t be there for him, can’t do anything. He licked his lips nervously and looked at her with a pained expression on his face. “Natasha, I—“

“I know,” she smiled a sad smile, nodding. 

“You do?” Steve frowned, but still felt like a weight had been raised from his shoulders. Natasha was the first person he admitted his feelings to and he was relieved she didn’t tell him he's ruined it all. 

“I see how you look at him. Besides, he showed us the picture of your painting.”

“Does he—?”

“No,” she chuckled. “No, he doesn’t. And it’s not my place to tell him.”

“Thank you,” Steve choked out, his voice breaking. 

“Just. Wait for him to come to you,” she squeezed his arm again and left the room, closing the doors gently behind herself. 

Steve sighs, shaking his head at the memory, and gets out of bed, wincing at the pain. He’s still aching everywhere and has troubles lifting his left arm above his head. Grinding his teeth, he shuffles to the kitchen and downs a glass of water. He pops a couple of pills in his mouth and takes a couple more sips. Sarah left him waffles sprinkled in cinnamon with apples on the side and he devours them, sighing happily once he’s done. Steve takes the rest of his meds, after putting the dishes into the sink to wash later, and paddles back to his room, crawling into bed and taking his laptop with him. He checks his phone, but there’s still nothing from Bucky. He tries to ignore the pang in his chest, as he reads the messages from Peggy, Sharon and Sam. He texts them back, saying he still feels like shit and apologizing for what feels like a hundred time, then reaches for his laptop. He wants to put on Netflix and let his mind go blank, but his finger stops over the Spotify app. Biting his lip, Steve opens the app and searches for the song that’s been on his mind for the last week. He finds it quickly and presses the play button, turning it up a bit. A shiver goes down Steve’s spine as the first accords start and he closes his eyes to get lost in the memory. Bucky, making his way into the crowd, his hips swaying to the rhythm. His head thrown back, his lips moving, singing along. 

_No matter what you say or what you do,_

Bucky, stepping closer to Steve and pointing his fingers at him. 

_When I’m alone I’d rather be with you,_

Bucky, swirling around, grinning and licking his lip, leaving it red and shiny. 

_Fuck this other n****s,_

Bucky, grabbing Steve by his suspenders and pulling him in, leaning down to sing straight to his good ear, causing the hair on Steve’s neck to stand up. 

_I’ll be right by your side, till 3005, hol’ up!_

Bucky, laughing and winking, throwing his head back and losing himself in the beat. 

Steve swallows down hard as he remembers stumbling over his own feet and falling straight into Bucky, the brunette catching him and grinning. Steve’s heart hurts as the memory of Bucky’s hands on his hips, guiding him through the song hits. The blonde sinks further into pillows and clenches his jaw as his eyes start to itch. He closes his laptop, turning off the music, and breathes heavily. Steve takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, laying on his side and drawing his knees up. He stays like that for a while, tuning everything off and focusing on the view outside his window. It’s nothing special, just another block of flats, but the snow is falling and the sunshine hits it at the right angle. Steve wishes he could commit it onto paper, the sharp sunlight, reflecting on the pile of snow on his window still. 

Steve’s brought out of his head when the buzzer goes off. He jumps slightly at the sound and blinks. The blonde stands up and goes to let Sam in, putting his glasses on the way. Waiting for the man to come up the stairs, Steve get his comfy blanket from his room and throws it over the couch. He runs a hand through his hair and goes to the front doors just when Sam knocks. 

“Hey, man!” Sam grins, stepping inside and closing the doors behind him. “How you’re feeling?” 

Steve shrugs, while Sam takes off his jacket and unlaces his boots. “Want somethin’ to drink?” 

“Steve, come on, I know my way around here,” the man jokes as he throws Steve an unimpressed look. He gives the blonde a quick hug and goes to the kitchen, putting the kettle on. Sam rummages through the cupboard until he grabs a box he was looking for. “There it is!” He smiles triumphantly as he pulls out the box with green tea. He puts a bag in a cup, taking out rooibos for Steve, and waits for the water to boil. The blonde gets the cookies out in the meantime and places them on a plate. Once Sam pours the water into the cups, they make their way to the living room and sit on the couch, placing the cookies and drinks on the coffee table.

Steve sits cross-legged and throws the blanket over himself, his back resting against the couch. “How’s Riley?” 

“He’s working on some project, that man never rests lemme tell ya,” Sam chuckles, a soft smile on his face. “He’s amazin’, Steve, for real. Best relationship I’ve ever been in.” 

“Happy to hear that,” Steve smiles as well, genuinely happy for his friend. “Got any plans for the weekend?” 

“Hell yeah! Goin’ ice skating. Told him it’s not really my style, but hell if I can say ‘no’ to him,” Sam explains, seeing Steve’s surprised expression. Steve laughs, the absolutely smitten look on his friend’s face being something he hasn’t seen in a while. 

“You really like him, don’t you?” The blonde says, even though the answer is pretty obvious.

“He gets me, wants the same in life. It’s been only what, like two months, but I can already tell it’s gonna last. Plus, have you seen him? It’s like winnin’ the lottery,” Sam smiles a soft smile, his eyes bright with joy. “Also, sex is great. And I mean, _great_ ,” he winks and Steve laughs, shaking his head. 

“Please keep the details,” Steve looks at his friend, unimpressed. 

“Oh, I’ll keep the details alright,” Sam grins, a dreamy look on his face. 

Steve snorts, throwing his head back. “ _Christ_ ,” he breathes, running a hand down his face. 

“Anyways, enough about me and my amazing sex-filled relationship. What’s up with you?” 

“I’m fine, Sam. Just wish I could actually enjoy the break,” Steve sighs, reaching for his cup. 

“You would if you hadn’t been and idiot,” the man states matter-of-factly, giving Steve a look. 

“Jeez, thanks,” the blonde rolls his eyes, bringing the cup to his lips and hissing, as he burns this tongue yet again. 

“I’m just being honest,” Sam shrugs, reaching for a cookie. He takes a bite and moans, closing his eyes. “ _Ohmygod_ ,” he mumbles, licking his lips. 

“You need a room to yourself?” Steve jokes, arching his eyebrow. 

“Nah, I’ll take this baby home with me later,” Sam winks. 

Steve groans. “Why are we friends again?” 

“Because I’m awesome and you love me.” 

“Sure,” the blonde shrugs, which gets him a kick on his leg. “Hey!” 

“I thought you were ‘fine’?” Sam says, his voice innocent. 

“Shut up,” Steve says under his breath, looking down. 

Sam laughs, covering his mouth with his hands. He shakes his head and finishes the cookie, then sobers up and looks at Steve with a serious expression on his face. “Seriously though, Steve, what’s up?” 

The blonde knows what Sam’s talking about, but he decides to play dumb, as he doesn’t really want to go there just yet. “You literally came to hospital every day Sam, there’s not much that could change since yesterday.” 

“You know what I’m askin’.” 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“Steve—” 

“ _Sam_.” 

They look each other dead in the eyes for a couple minutes, none of them breaking. Then, Steve gives in and sighs, looking down. “ _Fine._ There’s nothin’. Not a single word, Sam, it’s been almost a week and it’s driving me _fucking_ crazy.” 

“He’s still in Indiana?” Sam asks, reaching for his cup. Steve’s told his friends Bucky went away when they came to visit, he couldn’t keep it to himself. He just didn’t say why Bucky reacted the way he did and why it bothers him so much. Though, if he’s to be honest, he knows they probably have their suspicions. If Natasha was able to notice his feelings, his friends must have too. 

“I think so. I dunno, Natasha didn’t say anything about him since then and I didn’t ask,” Steve starts fiddling with the hem of his blanket, biting on his lip.

“Why?” 

“Because. What would I even say? ‘Hey Nat, is Bucky back yet?’” 

“It’s a start.”

“It’s pathetic,” Steve crosses his arms defensively and leans his head back. “Look, Sam, I know you mean well but it’s really not that simple—“ 

“Then make it simple, Steve. Don’t overthink it for once,” the man reaches out and squeezes Steve’s knee reassuringly. 

“ _I can’t_ ,” Steve almost whines, closing his eyes. Sam nudges his shoulder and Steve sighs, continuing. “It’s really not my place to tell. Just. Trust me.” 

“I don’t know what happened between the two of you but you obviously care about him—“ 

“Love him,” Steve breathes so quietly he barely hears it himself. 

“What?” Sam asks, his eyebrows raised, an intrigued look on his face.

“I’m in love with him,” Steve repeats quietly, his heart beating fast in his chest. It’s the first time he’s actually said it out loud and he feels dizzy but happy at the same time. Keeping his feelings inside has been eating him alive and he needs to be able to talk about it with someone, even if that’s not Bucky. Hell, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever say those words to the brunette. For now, he’s glad he can confide in Sam, the burden of his feelings being too heavy to carry alone. 

“ _Damn_ , Steve,” the man looks at him, blinking, then a small smile appears on his face. 

“You knew,” Steve states, not even surprised. 

“We all know. Just waitin’ for you to come around. It’s good you finally did,” Sam nudges his shoulder again. 

“That obvious, huh?” Steve chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Man, the way you look at him? Everyone sees it. Well, except for Bucky, though he looks exactly the same.” 

“What?!” Steve sits upright, his heart rate picking up again. 

“You’re both so blind it’s painful to watch,” Sam takes a sip of his drink and grabs another cookie. 

“ _Sam_. How—how does he look at me?” The blonde’s voice trembles. 

“Like you hung the goddamn moon,” the man chuckles, taking a bite and closing his eyes. “Sarah Rogers you are a saint!” He mumbles around the mouthful. 

“Okay, _no_. No, he doesn’t. Sam, there’s literally no way he’d be interested in someone like me—“

“Oh, cut the shit, Rogers. You’ve been friends for a couple of months now so he obviously likes spending time with you.”

“But it doesn’t mean—“ 

“Yes it _does_ , you’re just too blind to see it,” Sam gives him his ‘I know what I’m saying’ look and raises his eyebrows to make his point even clearer. “Just trust me when I say you’re both idiots and the sooner y’all talk the better.” 

Steve wants to argue some more but Sam ends the discussion standing up and taking his empty cup and the plate to the kitchen. He comes back and flops down on the couch, turning the TV on and switching back and forth between the channels. He finally finds what he likes and leans back, focusing on the show, leaving Steve to his thoughts. 

 

* 

Steve’s tapping his pencil against his lower lip when the sound of his phone brings him out of his head. He reaches out and answers it, without looking at the caller ID first. 

“‘lo?” Steve mumbles, putting his sketchbook down on his bed and straightening his legs. 

“Cap! You home?” 

Steve frowns, not recognizing the voice at first, and pulls his phone away from his ear to check the caller. “Clint?” 

“Yeah?” 

Steve blinks. He hasn’t talked to the guy since he was released from the hospital four days ago. They exchanged a couple of texts, Clint wanting to know how Steve’s feeling, but that’s it. Steve shrugs, even though the man can’t see him and shakes his head. “What’s up?” 

“You home?” Clint repeats, and Steve can hear his quiet chuckle. 

“I’m—yeah. Why?” 

“Oh, no reason. Bye!” 

The call ends just like that and Steve is left blinking at his phone, his eyebrows furrowed. He has no idea what that was about, but he knows Clint well enough now not to be surprised. Instead, Steve throws his hands up and stretches out, popping his spine. He falls back on the pillows on his bed and rubs his eyes. It’s Monday, the last week of winter break, and he finally feels well enough to actually do something. His Ma’s at work, and Steve has a couple hours just to himself. 

Steve spent the weekend with Sarah, both of them staying at home and catching up, baking cookies and fancy dinners. Sam and Sharon visited too, even stayed up till well into the night on Saturday. After Steve admitted his feelings for Bucky to Sharon, they all agreed to not bring the subject up again that night. They watched movies and drank ginger ale, non-alcoholic for Steve, talking about everything and nothing. Even Natasha came for a while, she and Sharon being closer every day. Steve could tell how happy Sharon was, and is glad things are finally working out for her. The only person Steve still hasn’t heard a word from is Bucky, but he came to terms with the silence between them. Steve knows he fucked up bad, and knows why Bucky stormed off the way he did. After his conversation with Sam, and then Sharon and Peggy on facetime, he feels better; hopeful, even. Natasha told him to give Bucky some time, and that’s exactly what Steve’s doing. Sure, it sucks. It kills him to not know how the brunet’s doing and when he’s coming back. But, Steve knows he can’t rush it, for if he did, it would only make things worse. 

Steve rolls onto his stomach and presses his head to his pillow, taking off his glasses. He’s been drawing since he woke up and now his wrist is killing him. He’s made a simple sketch of Sarah, and one of Sam and Riley from their night out, both of them sitting in the booth, arms thrown around one another. He’s actually happy with how this one turned out and he plans to give it to Sam next time the man comes. The blonde sighs and closes his eyes, twisting his wrist to relieve the pain. 

The next thing Steve knows is his phone ringing loudly somewhere close to him. He rubs his eyes, swearing inwardly for taking a nap, and frantically looks around his bed to locate his phone. 

“‘S Steve,” he rasps, then clears his throat. 

“Open the doors,” the person says, then disconnects the call. 

Steve frowns. He hasn’t checked the caller ID yet again, and he couldn’t recognize the voice as his mind is still half asleep. He realizes someone’s knocking, so he throws his phone back on his bed, takes his glasses and goes to open. Steve cleans his glasses with the hem of his white, oversized tee he sleeps in and puts them on, then runs a hand through his hair, knowing it probably won’t help the disheveled mess on his head. He unlocks the doors and opens them, then freezes, blinking at the man in front of him. 

“Hiya, Stevie,” Bucky’s leaning against the doorway, his hair loose and partly hidden under the hood of his jacket. It’s unzipped and reveals a grey hoodie underneath, paired with a pair of black jeans and winter boots. Bucky looks a bit pale, only his cheeks flushed from the cold, with bags under his eyes. His gaze lacks the usual sparkle, his eyes are dimmed and bloodshot. His voice sounds lower than usual and a shiver runs down Steve’s spine just at the sound of it. “Can I come in?” Bucky arches one eyebrow, biting his lower lip, and Steve realizes it’s an honest question. Bucky would actually go if Steve told him no. 

That jolts Steve out of his frozen state and he quickly steps aside, nodding his head for Bucky to get inside. The brunette gives him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and steps inside, taking the hood of his jacket off and shrugging it off. He toes off his boots and looks at Steve expectantly, waiting for him to make a move. 

“Right,” Steve mumbles, then goes further into the small apartment. “You want somethin’? Coffee?” He asks, going straight to the kitchen. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Bucky follows him and sits on one of the stools, facing Steve’s back as the blonde puts on the coffee pot and a kettle for tea—Steve figures his heart rate is high enough as it is. 

Once both cups are steaming, Steve places them on the kitchen island and sits opposite Bucky. The guy is looking down, licking his lips nervously, his eyebrows knitted together. Steve pushes the cup towards the brunet, which gets him a small smile from Bucky, one that doesn't even reach the man’s eyes. 

“So…” Steve starts, then promptly shuts up. He has no idea what he was going to say; it’s not like he can just admit his feeling for Bucky, and he still isn’t sure if he wants to. Steve runs a hand through his hair and swallows down hard. He knows what he should say, but he can’t find the right words. 

“Bucky…” Steve starts again, and this time the brunette looks up, even though it's just for a quick second. Steve bites the inside of his cheek, fiddling with the hem of his tee. “I’m sorry,” he lets out a breath and wills his heart to slow down. “I’m sorry I disappeared on you guys and got into that stupid fight. I shouldn’t have done that, I know, I’m sorry, I—” he closes his eyes and fists his hands. The memories are flooding Steve’s head now and he feels even more like a dick for what he’s done. “Look, I know why you were, or, I dunno, maybe you still are mad at me and I know it was stupid and reckless and I know my promise can’t mean to you much—” 

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts, looking up for what feels like the first time. Steve realizes he started rambling and shuts his mouth, sucking in his lower lip and looking at Bucky. The man’s eyes seem even more piercing than usual, the icy blue dim and almost silver. “I’m the one who’s sorry,” he says quietly, looking down again. 

Steve blinks at him. “Yeah, what?” 

“I shouldn’t have left you just like that, we’re friends and—” 

“Yeah, Buck, we’re _friends_ ,” it’s Steve turn to interrupt, as he emphasizes the last word, wiping his sweaty palms on his black sweats. “I should know better than to pick up fights with drunk people, especially when I’m on my own. What are you even sorry for? I can’t even imagine how hard it must’ve been for you—” 

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky straightens up and Steve shuts up again. “Just. Lemme finish, alright?” He lifts one eyebrow questioningly and Steve nods. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you came at that guy. Sorry none of us were, but mostly I’m sorry I let you do that on your own. And… and I’m sorry I stormed off like that. We’re friends, I should’ve been there for you. I just… With everything that happened, Becca and my dad’s addiction, I just couldn’t—” he takes a deep breath, looking down again, and fists his right hand in his hair. “I couldn’t handle the thought I was so close to losing you too,” Bucky whispers, his voice barely audible and Steve’s heart stops. 

“Buck…” Steve breathes, his hand reaching out. Bucky leans back, however, and chews his lower lip. 

“Lemme say that,” the brunette looks up, his eyes pleading, and Steve takes his hand back, resting his palms on his lap. “My dad… He’s an alcoholic. He’s sober now, but after Becca… He almost drunk himself to death. We left Poland partly because of that, we all needed a fresh start. I—I lost my sister, I almost lost my dad, I could’ve lost you. And I… I like you, Steve. You’re honest to God my best friend and…” Bucky shakes his head and rests his arms on the kitchen island, leaning on them. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Buck,” Steve lifts the corner of his mouth, his heart breaking for Bucky. He can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for him, to lose his sister because of some drunk idiot, then almost lose his dad to alcohol too. Steve clenches his fists, restraining himself from reaching out, but when Bucky turns his palm up, he cannot hold himself any longer and squeezes the brunet’s hand. Bucky looks up at that and offers him a genuine smile; sad, but it’s still there. 

Steve has something on the tip of his tongue, three words that demand to be said, but he clenches his teeth and focuses on being there for Bucky. He knows his feelings won’t change, and there’ll always be time to tell Bucky how he really feels about him. For now, Steve’s more than happy to be his friend and be there whenever Bucky needs him.


	13. week fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand we're here, last chapter y'all!!

A sharp knock on the doors forces Steve to get out of his blanket cocoon and stand up. He sighs, running a hand through his hair, then straightens out his tee as he goes to open. 

“Hey,” Bucky smiles, leaning against the door frame. His hair is messy from the wind, his cheeks and nose flushed from the cold. His eyes crinkle, though, and the corners of Steve’s lips lift up involuntarily. The blonde steps aside, letting Bucky come in and take off his outwear. 

“Want somethin’ hot?” Steve asks, padding down to the kitchen. It’s Friday noon, so Sarah is still at work. Steve’s already got plans for dinner to surprise his Ma, and, if he secretly hopes Bucky’ll stay, so what. 

They’ve been spending a lot of time together this week, Bucky and Steve. Bucky’s even met Sarah, to his delight. Steve is still mostly bedridden, unable to go out and enjoy the winter break. However, Bucky’s proved to be a great company—he’s been visiting Steve ever since he came back to New York, often staying all day at Rogers’ apartment, waiting for Sarah to come home from work so Steve wouldn’t be alone. Natasha and Clint came by too, same as Sam and Sharon. Bucky, though, he’s been with Steve all week, making sure the blonde isn’t bored. They’ve played board games, watched movies, talked about everything and nothing, sometimes even sat in a comfortable silence together. Steve sketched Bucky more often than he’d like to admit, as during their time together he had so many opportunities he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t take them. His entire sketchbook is now filled with Bucky—his hands, hair, easy smiles, crinkling eyes, drawn eyebrows. Steve is fascinated with Bucky, not only his easy-going persona, but also his body, which, mind you, is new for him. Steve’d often catch himself staring at Bucky’s biceps, his big hands, or plump lips. More often than not, Bucky’d catch him, and arch an eyebrow, asking Steve the silent question. Steve just shook his head, then, pretending he was lost in his head, which, to be honest, wasn’t so far away from the truth. Ever since Bucky appeared on his doorstep on Monday and told Steve the truth about why he ran, Steve couldn’t stop thinking about him. He knew he had feelings for Bucky even before that, but now… Now, the words wanted to be said out loud. And it’s not something Steve’s ready for. So, every time Bucky laughed, blushed, or said something so unbearably _Bucky_ , instead of running his mouth, Steve would go inside his head, letting the scenarios where he and Bucky are together envelop him. It’s better than the harsh reality, he thinks. They’re as close as possible now, texting or calling every time they’re not together.

Yesterday, Steve almost made the same mistake as all those weeks ago, his sleepy mind too late to catch up with what he was doing. They were watching a movie, _Napoleon Dynamite_ , one of Steve’s favorites to which he’d never admit, and the blonde fell asleep on Bucky’s shoulder. When he woke up, the lights were off, the only source of light coming from the outside. There was music playing quietly from Bucky’s phone, and he was tapping his fingers on his left thigh, his head leaned back and his eyes half-closed. Steve lifted his head from Bucky’s shoulder, realizing his right arm was hugging the other man, his legs thrown over Bucky’s lap. Bucky looked down at him, then, a soft smile curling at the corners of his lips. Steve looked into the brunet’s eyes, even though they were blurry as Bucky must’ve taken his glasses off. Bucky bit his lower lip, and Steve’s eyes traveled down, following Bucky’s tongue as he licked his lips. Bucky run his free hand through Steve’s hair, then, and the blonde tipped his head up, leaving inches between them. Bucky kept stroking his hair, though he didn’t move. Steve ran his tongue over his lower lip and inched closer. That’s when his brain finally went back online, and he immediately backed away, taking his arm and legs off of Bucky. He cleared his throat, and reached for his glasses, which were on the coffee table, busying himself with cleaning them with the hem of his plaid shirt. He promptly stood up, making an excuse and went to the bathroom. When he got back, Bucky didn’t say anything, so Steve stayed clear of this subject, too. 

“What you’ve got?” Bucky asks, entering the kitchen after Steve. 

“Coffee, tea. Cocoa, if you feel like it,” Steve rummages through the cupboard, then turns around when Bucky doesn’t say anything. “What do ya—” Steve stops, mid-sentence, looking at Bucky with his jaw hanging wide open. The brunet’s seated on one of the stools, one of his legs resting against the other stool, bent in the knee. He smirks, the bastard, his right hand playing with his hair. Steve’s mind takes a minute to regroup, and then he remembers the movie they’ve seen earlier this week. “Mr. Barnes, you’re trying to seduce me,” Steve says, his face dead serious, as Bucky chuckles. “Aren’t you?” He keeps up, lifting an eyebrow. 

“And here I was, thinkin’ you didn’t pay attention,” Bucky laughs, his head shaking. 

“Excuse me, this movie is great,” Steve huffs, putting the coffee pot on. He knows Bucky well enough by now to know that’s what the brunet likes best. 

“Excuse you, you fell asleep like three times on me already,” Bucky cocks his eyebrow, looking at Steve pointedly. 

“Okay, rude,” Steve juts out his jaw, leaning back against the counter, his front to Bucky. 

“Now why’s that?” 

“First of all, I just got out of the hospital—” 

“A week ago,” Bucky mumbles, but Steve pays him no mind as he continues. “And second of all, those movies were so _goddamn_ boring,” he whines, knowing it’ll get a raise out of the brunet. 

And he’s not wrong. Bucky takes a deep breath, his eyes widening. “Boring? Did you just—Fucking _boring_?” He blinks, disbelieving, and Steve has a hard time not to laugh. “I’ll have you know that _Taxi Driver_ is a cinematic masterpiece, and if you don’t understand it then there’s no help for ya. De Niro did _not_ deliver that famous scene to be called boring!” Bucky crosses his arms, huffing. “‘Sides, I only wanted to watch _All the President’s Men_ because it was about Watergate and you’re literally the biggest Nixon critic I know—” 

Steve can’t hold it anymore and starts laughing. Bucky just looks at him, confused, blinking. “‘M sorry,” the blonde whizzes, putting up his palms. “They weren’t boring, Buck, I swear.” 

“Then why… ?” 

Steve shrugs. “Dunno,” he manages to say, still chuckling under his breath. Steve does know, though. He loves listening to Bucky talk about his favorite movies, something he learned about this week. 

Every time they wanted to watch something, Steve insisted on Bucky picking the movie, as he knows all his favorite movies are, well, specific. And whenever that happened, Bucky would have such a hard time, telling Steve about the movies he liked, trying to not spoil too much of the plot. Whenever Steve looked at him skeptically, the brunet would rush with explanations to why this certain aspect is so great, and why the movie is one of his favorites. 

So yeah, Steve knows exactly why he tried to get Bucky to talk about movies. It’s just, with this week coming to an end, and university starting again on Monday, Steve know him and Bucky won’t have too much time to just sit around and watch movies all day long. Steve’ll be going back to work, and between that, and classes, and all the new assignments, tests, quizzes, and paintings, they won’t have much time to hang out. So, Steve wants to cherish this little moments while he still can. 

Bucky is still looking at him with his eyebrows furrowed and a scowl on his face. Steve sends him an apologetic smile, taking two cups out the cupboard and pouring coffee into them. “Wanna watch somethin'?” He asks tentatively, two mugs in his hands. 

“You choose, smartass,” Bucky huffs, no heat behind his words, though, so Steve knows he’s not actually mad.

He motions his head for the brunet to follow him, and they move to the living room, then flop down on the couch. Steve places the cups on the coffee table and takes the remote, pulling up Netflix. He puts on _Friends_ , as one can never go wrong with that. They still have a couple hours till Sarah’s back, so they lean back. Steve wraps himself back into his blanket, resting his head against the back of the couch and throwing his legs over Bucky. The man lifts an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything, just gets comfortable, and throws his arm on the back of the couch. Steve rests his head against Bucky’s arm, then, and sighs happily, tuning into the episode that’s playing. 

It’s “The One with the Ick Factor,” the end of season one, and they’re both giggling under their breaths as the all the friends are grilling Monica for dating Young Ethan. Steve looks at Bucky, his lips stretched in a soft smile, eyes crinkling. As the episode progresses, and Phoebe, Ross, and Joey make fun of the way Chandler speaks, Bucky bursts out laughing, saying along Ross “the hills are alive with the sound _of_ music!” The man throws his head back, his chest shaking with laughter, and Steve can’t take his eyes off of him. The light streaming through the window falls softly on Bucky’s face, highlighting his cheekbones and chestnut hair. His eyes are half-closed, the eyelashes leaving a shadow on his face, and his lips are stretched in the most adorable smile. Bucky shakes his head slightly, running a hand through his hair, as his eyes focus back on the screen. He seems so relaxed and at ease, licking his lower lip as the corners of his mouth go up again. 

Steve’s brain short circuits, his heart swelling with how strongly he feels for the man in front of him. The blonde lifts his head, his eyes still fixated on Bucky, and swallows down nervously, the urge irresistible. He can’t put it off anymore. Sure, he’s afraid he’ll lose Bucky’s friendship, but he _has_ to try. Steve’s never felt that way about anyone before, and he wants to act on it, afraid he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. He puts his hand on the brunet’s shoulder, to have his attention. 

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks quietly, his eyes going from Bucky’s lips, to his eyes, and back down. 

The brunet’s eyes widen in surprise, his mouth slightly agape. He blinks, then licks his lower lip, his eyes never leaving Steve’s. 

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, leaning down, and Steve doesn’t waste anymore time, closing the gap between them. 

It’s tentative, at first; just a brush of lips, a gentle press. However, when Bucky leans back, Steve chases after him, using the hand he’s placed on Bucky’s cheek to keep him in place. He presses his lips to Bucky’s, feeling his heart thrumming in his throat. Then, Bucky licks and nips on Steve’s lower lip, and the blonde gives, opening his lips with a soft whine. The kiss stays tender and gentle, both of them exploring each other, uncertain. Bucky’s palm lands on Steve’s hip, and he brings the blonde even closer to himself. Bucky turns, pulling Steve flush to his chest, and taking his left hand off the couch to put it around the blonde’s waist. Steve’s free hand travels to Bucky’s hair, stroking it gently and tugging every now and then, when he needs to lean back to take a gasping breath. When Steve’s lungs start to rattle, they both lean back, for good this time, resting their foreheads against each other, Steve breathing raggedly, clearing his throat and feeling Bucky’s breath hot on his cheek. The brunet’s drawing soothing circles on the blonde’s back with his thumb, keeping his eyes closed as he slows his breath down. 

“If I open my eyes, will you still be there?” Bucky murmurs quietly, his voice betraying how truly scared he is. 

“Yeah, Buck. I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Steve assures, his thumb stroking Bucky’s cheek. Steve opens his eyes just seconds before Bucky, and his heart skips a bit, seeing the icy blues so up close, so warm and gentle, crinkling at the corners. A lazy smile stretches on Bucky’s lips, as his eyes travel from Steve’s baby blues, to his lips and back. 

“Hi,” Bucky mumbles, licking his lips. 

Steve chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “Hi yourself,” he smiles, content. He knows they have to talk. He has to tell Bucky about his sexuality and what it means for their relationship, if there's ever to be one. But for now, he wants to stay just where he is. In Bucky’s arms, keeping their foreheads together, breathing the same air, and maybe stealing kisses from time to time. 

*

Steve mashes the potatoes while Bucky sits on a stool and pours dressing over a salad. Sarah should be home in less than half an hour, but Steve started the dinner earlier, so now it’s almost ready. He puts the greens in the pan, then mixes the ingredients together, covering it with a lid to keep the meal warm. He turns the heat off and takes three plates out of the cupboard. Steve places them on the kitchen island, then reaches for forks and gets everything ready. Once it’s done, he sits on a stool next to Bucky, stealing a quick kiss first. He still can’t believe he’s allowed to do that now. He needs to call Sam, Peggy, and Sharon. He’d call Natasha and Clint as well, but he figures Bucky’ll beat him to it. Still, he thinks he’ll text them, as they’ve become friends over the past couple of weeks. 

“Are we telling your mom?” Bucky asks, nudging Steve’s knee with his own, biting down on his lip subsequently. Steve raises an eyebrow, questioningly. He knows what Bucky’s asking, he just wants to hear it, wants to know it’s not only in his head. “About us, Stevie,” Bucky rolls his eyes, though Steve can tell he’s getting nervous. 

“I—yeah. She’ll know the minute she looks at me, there’s no lyin’ to her,” Steve shrugs, though a small smile is playing on his lips. 

He thinks about what to tell Sarah, exactly. It’s not like they’re boyfriends, they haven’t talked about it yet. All they did was kissing, and even though it was great and Steve sure as hell feels a certain way about Bucky, he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. He doesn’t want to lie to Bucky, and not telling the man about his sexuality would feel like it. Steve can’t pretend it’s not a problem—his past attempts at relationships taught him that much. If they are to tell Sarah about the new development in their relation, Steve has to come clean first. No matter how much it’s stressing him out. And he’s _fucking terrified_. He knows Bucky well enough to know it shouldn’t be a problem, but what he’s not sure of, is whether Bucky’ll want to date him. And sure, Steve’ll be happy just being friends with the brunet, but now, now that he knows what kissing Bucky feels like, Steve isn’t sure how he’ll cope without it. 

“What’s on your mind?” Bucky reaches out and squeezes Steve’s arm, bringing the blonde back to the present. 

“I just… Can—can we talk?” Steve hesitates, but knows he’ll have to do it sooner or later. His palms feel sweaty, and his pulse quickens. 

“What’s wrong?” Bucky’s brows furrow, his voice tentative. 

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just…” Steve sighs, licking his lips. His heart is thrumming in his chest, his throat suddenly dry. “Before we do this,” he gesticulates between himself and Bucky, swallowing loudly. “I need to tell you that… I’m—” he lets out a breath. “I’m ace. As in asexual,” Steve mumbles, looking down, not ready to see whatever shows in Bucky’s eyes right now. He’s confident with his sexuality, after struggling for so long with coming to terms with who he is, but the past has taught him that not everyone is as understanding as they seem to be. He hasn’t yet gone through a heartbreak per se, but it doesn't mean his experience is all so cheerful. 

“Steve… Hey, Steve, look at me,” Bucky says quietly, but sternly. When the blonde looks up, the corner of Bucky’s lips lift slightly, his hand reaching for Steve’s. “Will you go out with me? On a date? As my boyfriend?” 

“What?” Steve says, confused. 

“I like you, punk. I wanna be with you,” Bucky shrugs, smiling. 

“But—but I’m ace!” Steve says, bewildered. Did Bucky not hear him? Steve’s coming out has never brought that kind of response before. 

“And I appreciate you tellin’ me, but it doesn’t change the way I feel about you,” Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand, reassuringly, then leans closer to the blonde. “If you don’t wanna sleep with me, that’s fine, Stevie. I mean, sure, you’re hot as hell and I’d be more than happy to take you to bed and not leave for two days, but it’s not all there is to a relationship, is it?” Bucky smirks, as Steve gets red all the way to the tips of his hair. “What I’m sayin’ is, I wanna be with you in any way you’re comfortable with. I’m falling for you, dumbass.” 

Steve’s gaping, his cheeks and ears burning. Did Bucky just? “You’re _falling_ for _me_?” He asks, still not quite believing. 

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head, then sinks on one knee, taking Steve’s hand in his. “Steven Grant Rogers, will you do me the honor and be my boyfriend?” He grins, his eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“Jerk,” Steve rolls his eyes, but tuggs Bucky up, and leans in. 

“Punk,” Bucky breaths, closing the distance between them. 

They stay like that for a bit, hands running over each other’s backs and tangled in their hair. Steve is the first to pull back, as his lungs start to struggle. Bucky just licks his lower lip, his eyes focused on Steve’s mouth. His pupils are blown and Steve runs his tongue over his lips just to be a little shit. It works—Bucky’s eyes follow his tongue, then he groans, running his hand through his hair and sitting back down, his hands folded on his lap.

“So,” Bucky clears his throat, licking his lips once again. “What are you comfortable with?” He asks, leaning forward. 

Steve shrugs. “I don’t mind kissing,” he smiles, as Bucky huffs, shaking his head. “I’m not saying I’ll never want to have sex but…” 

“That’s fine, Steve,” Bucky assures, reaching out for Steve’s hand again. 

“Thank you,” the blonde murmurs earnestly, his anxiety finally wearing off. 

“For what?” Bucky asks, arching an eyebrow.

“I dunno. Understanding?” Steve hesitates, looking down at their joined hands. 

“ _Steve_.”

“What?” He asks, looking up as Bucky squeezes his hand. 

“You’re amazing,” Bucky breathes and Steve grins. 

The doors open at that moment, and Sarah comes barreling through. “I’m back, leanbh!” She calls, then enters the kitchen, walking in on Steve and Bucky holding hands. “Finally!” She exclaims, beaming, then walks over to them and drops a kiss on Steve’s temple. “You treat my boy right,” she points a finger at Bucky, narrowing her eyes. 

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nods, as Steve whines. 

“Ma…” Steve leans his head back, feeling like a teenager all over again. 

“Ciúin,” Sarah squeezes his shoulder, smiling at the two of them. 

“We’ve made dinner,” Bucky supplies, looking between both Steve and Sarah, his expression puzzled. 

Steve lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed. “We?” 

“Steve made dinner,” Bucky grins, winking at Sarah, to which she chuckles. 

She goes to the stove, then lifts he lid off the pan and lurks inside. “Colcannon?” She asks, her lips curling again. Steve nods, as she turns the heat on. “Go raibh maith agat,” Sarah sends Steve a thankful smile, stirring the dish so it doesn’t burn. 

Bucky looks between the two, a small smile on his lips. Steve nudges his knee, and Bucky just shrugs, squeezing Steve’s knee back. 

Once their dinner is hot, Sarah puts the pot on a kitchen island, and they all put some on their plates. They eat in silence, the only sound being their forks scraping the plates. When finished, Steve takes all their plates and empty glasses to the sink and decides to wash them now. Bucky is immediately there to help him, and together they finish quickly, even though the brunet did throw soap foam on Steve’s shirt. 

Sarah sits on the stool, watching them both with a fond smile. When they’re done, she stands up, stretching her spine. “You boys behave yourselves,” she says, winking at Steve, and he rolls his eyes, whining under his breath. Bucky chuckles, throwing his right arm over the blonde’s shoulders. “Yes ma’am,” he says, which gets him an elbow to the ribs from Steve. 

“Oíche mhaith,” Sarah says softly, leaving the kitchen, and going into her bedroom. 

Steve looks at Bucky, not knowing what to do. He doesn’t want to say goodbye to the brunet just yet, but he knows that now that his Ma is back, there is no real reason for Bucky to stay. Still, he cocks an eyebrow, asking “Wanna watch a movie?” 

Bucky lick his lips, thinking, then shrugs. “Sure.” 

They end up in Steve’s room, cuddling, with their legs tangled to fit on the blonde’s small bed. Bucky chose the movie this time, and Steve tries hard to not comment on his choice. Steve can’t help but sigh, though, as the hero of 1982 _Blade Runner_ falls for a replicant. Bucky lifts and eyebrow, disapprovingly, but Steve just shrugs, his attention back to the movie. 

He can’t stop thinking about what Bucky’s said earlier, though. Or rather, how he’s said it. The way he’s asked if Steve’ll still be there when Bucky opens his eyes, made Steve wonder what Bucky’s been through. His voice was so small, so scared, as if there was any possibility of Steve leaving him. Steve can’t help but go back to that moment, and think how little, despite all the time and conversations they’ve had, he knows about Bucky. He yet again comes to the conclusion, that there will always be some parts of Bucky that Steve won’t know. The brunet seems so open, and yet is so secretive. Steve feels like he knows Bucky, really knows him, but there are still some parts of his life that Steve has no idea about. And don’t get Steve, wrong, he’s fine with that. He’s glad to know Bucky at all, besides, he likes the fact that there’s always something new to learn about the man. Steve just wishes he could take all of Bucky’s pain away, all his insecurities and fears, so the man could be truly happy, not haunted by the ghosts of his past. 

Steve furrows his brows and pauses the movie. Maybe he shouldn’t be asking, maybe he should just mind his own business. But, he’s mind seems to be stuck on that one moment, and he can’t think of any reason why Bucky reacted the way he did. 

“Hey, Buck?” Steve looks up at the man, who sends him a questioning look, so he continues. “Can I, uhh… Can I ask you somethin’?” 

“Sure,” Bucky shrugs. 

“If you don’t wanna talk about it ‘s fine, and you don’t hafta answer, I just.. I’m just wonderin’ is all—” 

“Steve, just ask,” Bucky chuckles, shaking his head slightly, a small amused smile on his face. 

“When we kissed… Why did you ask if I’ll still be there?” Steve mumbles, looking anywhere but at Bucky. It seems so stupid now. It’s literally none of his concerns and he shouldn’t be prying into Bucky’s life. He’s with the man now, and that should be all that matters, why couldn’t he just live it alone? 

“Oh, uh… “ Bucky licks his lips unconsciously, looking down at his hands. “Just before freshman I was dating this guy and, um…” 

“Buck, you don’t hafta—”

“Shut up, Steve, I wanna,” Bucky bites down on his lower lip and Steve promptly shuts up, letting him speak. “It was my first serious, well, sorta, relationship and I was falling hard and fast. He was a couple years older, but he wasn’t pushin’ me to do anything, so I thought he really cared about me, y’know?” Bucky huffs. “When we finally decided to do it, he took me to this nice hotel, and I really thought it meant somethin’. Turned out he just wanted to fuck me. I woke up alone, and never saw him again.” 

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve never brought this up—” Steve starts, but Bucky just squeezes his arm. 

“It’s fine, Stevie. I’m long over him. ‘sides, I was young and dumb.” Bucky chuckles, as Steve arches his eyebrow. 

“It was two years ago,” Steve states, unimpressed. 

“I didn’t know you, did I?” The guy smirks. 

Steve groans, rolling his eyes. “Buck—” he doesn’t get a chance to answer, though, as the man leans down and kisses him. It’s chaste and over all to quickly, but it still shuts Steve up. As he’s pulling himself together, his heart in his throat and his cheeks burning, Bucky starts the movie again. 

Steve falls asleep some time near the end of the film. Bucky wakes him up gently, when the end credits play, the sound turned down low. “I gotta go,” the brunet whispers, as Steve blinks, taking in his surroundings. His head is on Bucky’s stomach, his arms wrapped tightly around the other man.

“Okay,” Steve rasps, closing his eyes again, and furrowing his head in Bucky’s shirt. 

The brunet chuckles. “You gotta let me go, Stevie.” 

“No,” Steve mumbles, closing his eyes again. 

“Come on,” Bucky tries to get Steve’s arms off himself, but Steve just grips him tighter, whining in the process. “Work with me, punk,” Bucky whispers to Steve’s good ear, no heat behind his words. 

“Don’t wanna,” the blonde says into Bucky’s shirt, stirring. 

“Steve, I gotta go home to sleep, too,” Bucky giggles, as he runs his hand through Steve’s hair. 

Steve arches into the touch, his jaw going slack. He almost purrs at how good it feels. 

“Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, his hand never stopping. 

“Mhmm?” 

“I gotta go home.”

“No,” Steve, shakes his head slightly, half-asleep. 

“No?” Bucky chuckles again, as Steve shakes his head some more. 

“Stay.” 

“Stay?” Bucky asks, and his hand stops.

Steve tips his head back, urging Bucky to continue playing with his hair. When Bucky resumes, Steve smiles a blissful smile, murmuring “Mhmm.” 

“Stevie. Hey, Steve,” Bucky stops again, shaking the blonde. 

Steve groans, but opens his eyes and looks up. “What?” 

“D’you really want me to stay?” Bucky worries his lower lip between his teeth, his eyebrows drawn. 

“Yes,” Steve states, then closes his eyes again. 

“Hey, Steve, no, don’t fall asleep on me yet,” the brunet shakes him gently again, and Steve wines, but opens his eyes. “You have to change first. And I have no toothbrush or pajamas for that matter.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “ _Fine_ ,” he drawls, but sits up nonetheless. 

Steve stands up, stretching his spine, and goes to his drawer. He pulls an oversized tee and throws it in the general direction of Bucky. “This should fit. Spare toothbrushes are under the sink,” he goes to make the bed, once Bucky goes to the bathroom. 

Steve quickly puts on his own tee and shorts he sleeps in, then takes out his hearing aid and takes off his glasses. When Bucky’s back, the blonde makes a quick trip to the bathroom to take care of his business and wash his teeth, then goes back to his bedroom, finding Bucky already under the covers. Steve slips under too, turns off the bedside lamp, and puts his head on Bucky’s chest. He throws his arm around Bucky’s midsection, taking in a deep breath, and smiling at the scent of Bucky mixed with the fabric softener on Steve’s tee. 

Bucky starts stroking Steve’s hair again and leans down into the blonde’s good ear. “Dobranoc, słońce.” 

“Oíche mhaith, mhuirnín,” Steve murmurs back, closing his eyes. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thanks to all of you who read this and left comments, it's been so much fun! I'm kinda sad it's come to an end, but maybe I'll write an epilogue, who knows. if any of you has an idea as to where steve and bucky end up in the future, lemme know and it might just end like that  
> I may or may not have another work (or two) in progress, so it's probably not the last you've heard from me  
> for now, though, it's been a pleasure 
> 
> (also, asexuality is a spectrum and everyone can feel differently about sex and all the other stuff, Steve's attitude is basically mine but it's not how everyone feels so there's that)


End file.
